Visible
by cylobaby27
Summary: "Just because Prussia was completely smashed didn't mean he was stumbling around—no, that was his swagger." Prussia first meets Canada when the "invisible" nation starts a bar fight during a hockey match. For Prussia, it's love at first sight. Canada just can't understand why Gilbert's still talking to him. PruCan. Rated for language and mature content.
1. Chapter 1

_**This story is dedicated to Aulophobic Clarinetist and Highly Functional Insomniac, my fangirl buddies and all-around great friends. **_

Gilbert was bored. And that pissed him off. He was _motherfucking Prussia_, for Christ's sake! People should be lining up to entertain him. Instead, he was wandering the streets alone. Just because he was completely smashed didn't mean he was stumbling around—no, that was his _swagger._

He tripped over a curb, but caught himself before he face planted. Yeah, that's right. Prussia was practically a _ninja._

He continued down the street, waiting for someone to jump out and beg for his company. You know, he wouldn't even be forced to do this if his best friends weren't such man-whores. They had been boozing at their favorite bar and having a great time when France had found a pair of twins that actually fell for his seductive wink and murmured French pick-up lines. Apparently girls around here liked their men to act like pussies. Prussia scoffed to himself, making the family walking past him on the street hurry quickly to the other side of the road. How was it that France, cowardly, frilly, annoying _France_, managed to get laid every night while Prussia, _motherfucking Prussia_, was left sitting alone.

Antonio has been with him for another few minutes, obligingly laughing uproariously at everything Prussia had said—because Prussia was _hilarious, _not just because Toni had been smashed too—until his stupid little phone rang. After a minute of stupid lines like, "_Oh, Feli, you're so cute,"_ and _"Lovi is what? Really? Of course I'll be right there!"_Spain had bailed. Prussia would have been content to stay at the bar, drinking the night away, but for some reason the bartender had thrown him out. He hadn't broken _that _many glasses.

Gilbert heard the sounds of shouting from a bar across the street, and immediately crossed over to check it out. It was well past midnight, but the busy streets of New York were always active, so he had to dodge a few cars in his journey. Luckily, he was Prussia, and therefore too awesome to get hit by a car. It was mid-June, so the night was warm, a pleasant temperature compared to the sweltering afternoon. The loud sounds were coming from a normal looking sports bar on the corner. It had the dingy, homey look of a place frequented only by regulars, rather than the sort of pulsing, anonymous bars that Gilbert and his friends were drawn to. Still, since Gilbert could never miss out on a fight, he entered through the front door of the establishment.

"The awesome me has arrived," he said, but no one paid him any attention. The attention of everyone in the room was glued to the wide-screen televisions hanging over the bar.

The screens were all showing the same hockey game. Pushing closer, he saw that it was a match between Canada and the United States. It was the final period, the scores were tied, and only a minute remained on the clock. There was a tension present that made Gilbert grin. He had never really gotten into sports since he couldn't imagine how they could possibly compare to the real thrill of a battle, but the people here seemed to believe there were lives on the line.

He pushed closer to the bar, intent on ordering a beer, but the bartender was just as enthralled in the game as the rest of them, so Gilbert folded his arms and waited.

"Go, go, go!" encouraged a man next to him, shouting at the screen. His blond hair was mussed and his face was flushed, watching the screen with his emotions displayed openly on his face. A red and white jersey proclaimed his loyalty to the Canadian team just as loudly as his shouted encouragements. "Go, you fucking hoser! Hey!"

The Canadian fans in the crowd hissed as the figure shooting across the ice was slammed into mercilessly, leaving him skidding into a wall. The man with the red, white, and blues jersey snatched the puck and took it down the rink. The red-and-whites tried to stop them, but the States' team managed to get the puck past the goalie with a second to spare. The buzzer sounded and the man next to Gilbert crowed in despair. "That's bullshit!" he shouted. "Dawson is such a stupid motherfucker to let an Americanget in his way! Those guys can't even tie their own shoes without the coach talking them through it!"

"Watch your mouth," said a bald, tattooed man in the opposing team's jersey, turning on the man next to Gilbert. Unlike the Canadian, this man had friends around him, and they looked pissed off at the jeers, despite having just won their game. That was when Gilbert realized that there were less than five men in Canadian jerseys at the bar, while the rest of the crowd was decidedly American.

Though outnumbered, the man didn't back down. "Yeah, you heard me! Your team is just a bunch of Coca-Cola-drinking, American _hosers_!"

"Hey guys, calm down," the bartender said. The other people around the men had backed away slowly, leaving Gilbert as the only uninvolved bystander.

"Not until this Canadian pussy takes back what he said," the bald man growled.

"Yeah right! And I'm surprised your boys can even play without cracking the ice because they eat so many stupid cheeseburgers!" The man's insults were lacking in content, but he made up for it in sheer attitude.

"Shut up!"

"What are you going to do about it, eh?"

The other man's response was to throw a punch at the Canadian's jaw. The Canadian barely faltered, lunging straight at the four men in front of him. He grabbed one man and shoved him behind him, making him run straight into Gilbert, who was still watching. Gilbert took that as a sign to join the fight and happily punched the surprised man in the nose. He had to restrain himself a bit so he didn't kill the mortal, but it felt good to feel that crunch beneath his fist again.

OOO

"And stay out!"

Gilbert and his new partner in crime were thrown out of the bar onto the street. They were both sporting mild bruises, but looked in much better shape than the men left inside the bar. Gilbert was laughing uproariously, still feeling the adrenaline pumping through his system.

"Maybe we will!" the Canadian shot back at the closing door. "Stupid Americans. Why I had to be in New York for the biggest game of the year…"

Gilbert clapped the other man on the shoulder. "That was fucking awesome! Do people always start bar fights over sports matches?"

"That wasn't just any sports match," the man shot back. His face was still flushed despite the cold night air and his blonde hair was even messier than it had been before. He was drunk, but slurred his words only marginally. "That was a _hockey _game between _America _and_ Canada._"

"Right… So, that means bar fights?"

"Yeah, they tend to happen."

"Awesome," Gilbert said, nodding as he reevaluated his judgment of sports. He wasn't allowed to just kick the crap out of anyone, but if he had booze and a hockey game as an excuse….

The man looked at him thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "_Prussia?_"

Gilbert raised his eyebrows, startled. "You know about nations? You know about _me_?" Not that anyone shouldn't know about the awesome Prussia, but outsiders rarely understood his continued presence as a nation.

The man stuck out his hand. "I'm Matthew Williams. Also known as Canada."

Now Gilbert was even more surprised. He must have been drunker than he thought if he hadn't been able to notice the presence of another nation. Then again, he wasn't usually invited to the world meetings, and wasn't wasting his time memorizing names and countries now that he was left out of the loop for major decisions anyways. Gilbert shook the offered hand. "Call me Gilbert. Or King of Awesome. Either one works."

Canada nodded and grinned. "Thanks for the help back there."

"I love kicking some ass! Francis and Antonio—um, France and Spain—bailed on me earlier, so I was looking for some fun. Glad I found you, Mattie!"

Mattie looked momentarily taken aback, then suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Mattie?"

"Well, _Matthew _just isn't as awesome."

"My brother calls me Mattie," he said with distaste.

"Well now, so does the awesome Prussia! You're welcome."

Mattie rolled his eyes. "Maybe we should go somewhere other than the middle of the street, eh? Game's over anyways."

"Doesn't mean the night has to be! Come on, Mattie, let's hit up the town!"

"We have a meeting in the morning. Maybe that's not such a good idea…"

OOO

Matthew sipped on his maple-flavored coffee, thankful that his status as nation made him less susceptible to hangovers than mortals. Still, the sound of Arthur and Alfred arguing loudly on either side of him wasn't exactly pleasant. They were completely ignoring the fact that Matthew was in the chair between them as they carried out their shouting match about some stupid topic or other.

The nations were gathering in the conference room of one of New York's finest hotels. Kuma-what's-his-face was sitting by Matthew's feet while he drank his coffee and organized his notes. Luckily, he was rarely called on during meetings, so his lack of attention today would go unnoticed. Still, he wanted to pay as much attention as possible. Matthew wanted to be a good representative of Canada, even if no one else noticed what he was doing.

Germany called the meeting to order at promptly nine a.m., and the day of useless arguing commenced. The one surprise that occurred was Gilbert strolling through the door at a quarter past ten, a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. Gilbert made them look like a fashion statement, but Matthew knew the real reason. Gilbert had been even more hammered than Matthew last night, though he had managed to make it back to the safety of his own hotel room without help from Matthew. Unlike when Matthew went drinking with Alfred, France, or Arthur, he hadn't ended up babysitting his companion. Instead, he and Gilbert had had an enjoyable, if a little crazy, night on the town without either needing to take care of the other. It had been rather… fun.

Still, Matthew wouldn't be surprised if Gilbert had completely forgotten about him, what with his obviously raging hangover and Matthew's own general invisibility. In a brief moment of self-pity, Matthew silently bid farewell to the friend he had almost made.

Gilbert took a seat at the back of the room, flipping Germany off when he berated him for his tardiness. His face scanned the table. Matthew could have sworn he lingered over when Matthew was sitting, but he couldn't tell because of the sunglasses.

He tried to focus on the debates about global warming, but found his eyes flicking occasionally back to where Gilbert sat. He was surprised when the meeting was paused for the lunch break. Time apparently when by faster when you weren't actually listening to the meeting. America dragged England out of the door the moment the break was called, shouting something about cheeseburgers over the sound of England's flustered protests.

Matthew pushed back his chair and knelt down to pick up Kumajiro from where he was sleeping on the floor. "Who are you?" the bear asked.

"Canada," Matthew replied patiently, gathering up the fat, little polar bear.

"Hey, Mattie!"

Matthew jumped, banging his head sharply on the conference table. "Maple," he swore before emerging from under the table. He stood up, Kumajiro in his arms, to find Gilbert standing by his chair, snickering. "H-hi," Matthew said.

"Nice job," Gilbert teased. "Did I scare poor widdle Cana—Oh my God, that is too cute!" Gilbert had caught sight of Kumajiro and his mocking smirk melted in a real smile. "Polar bear!"

"Yeah, this is Kuma…something." Matthew watched with bewilderment as Gilbert rubbed the top of the bear's head affectionately.

Kuma growled softly, but didn't bite the other nation.

"_Mein Gott, _that's awesome! Hey, West!" he shouted across the room to Germany, who was being led away by Italy, "Can I get a bear?"

Germany blinked at Gilbert, eyes not even flicking over Matthew. "_Nein._ Come on, Italy." The small, pasta-loving nation quickly pulled the tall blonde from the room.

Gilbert pouted. "I don't need his permission anyways." He turned back to Matthew, who was still feeling a bit bewildered. Gilbert hadn't even faltered in identifying Matthew. Even Alfred, Francis, and Arthur, the men with whom he had grown up, forgot his name. "Anyways, Toni, Francis and I are headed to lunch. You coming?"

Matthew hesitated, tongue completely tied. Gilbert remembered him _and _wanted to hang out with him again?

"We'll go somewhere awesome," Gilbert cajoled, as though he needed to convince Matthew to agree.

"O-okay," Matthew said, grinning.

OOO

Gilbert and Mattie met his two best friends at a little Mediterranean grill they frequented when they visited New York. Gilbert had spent the walk talking to Mattie—well, it had really been talking _at _Mattie, but unlike his two 'friends', Mattie actually listened to Gilbert's non-stop jabber instead of rolling his eyes after the first five minutes. Honestly, Toni and Francis should feel honored they got to listen to him talk. They probably just couldn't handle the awesomeness that was Prussia. Still, Gilbert liked the fact that Mattie seemed to enjoy his company. Mattie, on the other hand, was nearly silent for the entire walk. It was a sharp contrast to the snarky, loud man Gilbert had gotten to know the night before, and he wasn't sure how to understand it. In the end, he decided to keep right on talking until Mattie interrupted.

Antonio and Francis had already taken their normal booth by the time Gilbert and Mattie arrived. They always sat in a four-person booth, but today was the first time in a while that the Bad Touch Trio was actually being joined by a fourth person. Toni tried dragging his annoying tomato would-be boy-toy, Lovino, sometimes, but it rarely went well. South Italy was decidedly uninterested, no matter how much Toni pushed the matter.

Gilbert stopped beside the table and decided to introduce Canada to his friends. If the awesome Gilbert hadn't noticed the nearly-as-awesome Mattie until now, then he was guessing the other two hadn't met him yet either. "Hey guys! Mattie's joining us today. Mattie, this is Francis and Antonio. Guys, this is Mattie. He's Canada."

"We've met," Mattie muttered, cheeks flushed.

"Ah, _mon petite Mathieu, _sit down next to your papa," Francis gushed, pulling the nation into the booth beside him.

"Papa?" Gilbert repeated incredulously, sliding into the seat next to Toni.

"_Oui_, Canada was one of my colonies," Francis said, raising a trimmed eyebrow at Gilbert.

"I don't remember you talking about him," Gilbert said skeptically.

Mattie looked embarrassed, but Gilbert couldn't tell if it was from Gilbert's words or from the fact that France had practically pulled Mattie into his lap.

Antonio looked at Mattie with a comical look of concentration on his face, and then snapped his fingers. "You're the one England stole! America's brother!"

Mattie frowned slightly, clutching his plump polar bear.

"Mattie's not America's brother," Gilbert protested.

"They look identical," Antonio pointed out. It was a sad day when _Antonio_ had to slow things down for _Gilbert._

Gilbert looked at Mattie closely. Sure, there was the blond hair and light eyes, and a similar build, but they were obviously completely different. Where America was brash and annoying, Mattie was more subtle and hilarious. His eyes had a violent tint that was way more awesome than America's baby blues. Plus, Mattie was a cool dude even when drunk off his rocker, while America became obnoxious even after too much soda. "Nope, don't see it," Gilbert concluded.

Francis and Toni laughed, but Mattie gave Gilbert a look of embarrassed joy. "Really?" he asked softly. His voice barely carried over the rest of the noise in the restaurant, but Gilbert was paying attention. Plus, he was an awesome lip-reader.

"Of course. You're way more awesome."

The smile that lit up Mattie's face proved Gilbert right. America could never smile as adorable as that. Gilbert hadn't thought of Mattie as 'adorable' last night when he had been starting bar fights and playing drinking games with Gilbert, but this new shy side of Mattie was surprisingly intriguing… and cute.

"So, how exactly did you two meet?" Francis asked after they ordered their food. "I would not have imagined the two of you as friends."

"Well, it started with this bar fight last night—"

"You started a bar fight after I left?" Antonio asked, half-scolding, half-jealous.

"No, dude, _Mattie _did!" Gilbert related the story of finding Mattie in the bar, kicking some ass, and then hitting the town. By the end, Francis was looking utterly flabbergasted.

Antonio looked at Mattie, who was sitting next to him and silently eating his falafel, with new interest. "You outdrank Gilbert?"

"That was your take-away?" Gilbert deadpanned. "Did you not listen about the table dancing? And the bar fight? Besides, that was only because I had already drunk so much with you two."

"I think there's been a mix-up," Francis said cautiously. "Mattie would never do any of that. I don't think he's been in a fight since World War II. Right, Mattie?"

Mattie blushed. "Actually, it's all true."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "What got into you?" he asked incredulously.

Mattie flinched. "Beer and hockey?"

"Hey, what's wrong with having some fun?" Gilbert challenged, feeling irritated. Francis's reaction was making Mattie look even more uncomfortable, and Gilbert had wanted Mattie to have an awesome time with his friends.

"It's just not very much like the _Mathieu _I know," Francis explained.

Gilbert was about to respond when Mattie interrupted him, muttering, "It's not like you really know me anyways."

"What's that supposed to mean, _chere_?" Francis's voice was soothing, but there was a sudden coolness in it in response to Mattie's irritation.

"You don't even remember my name usually. Why do you think you know what I'm like in my free time?" Mattie shook his head and pushed away his plate. He tossed a ten dollar bill on the table and stood up. "I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to head back to the hotel. I'll see you all later. Have a nice day." He actually sounded sincere, which made Gilbert think he was either a fantastic liar, or way too nice for his own good. He left the restaurant without another word.

Francis scowled and took a swig of his drink. "He must get the attitude from England."

Antonio laughed. "Sometimes our colonies just end up the way they end up without our help," he pointed out.

"How is our dear Romano?" France asked, still sounding generally irritated.

"Actually, apparently he's started dating—"

"Seriously, guys?" Gilbert burst, irritated that the subject had been changed so quickly. "Francis, you were acting like kind of a dick."

"I was just being honest. _Mathieu_ is not usually so, as you would say, 'awesome,' as your story made him sound," France replied. "He's sweet, to be sure, but not exactly memorable." He sighed. "I don't know where I went wrong. You must be a bad influence on him."

Gilbert gave him an incredulous stare, and then stood up. "Screw this." He left the restaurant. Unlike Canada, he didn't leave money to cover his meal.

_**Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you think!**_


	2. Chapter 2

The doorbell rang the next morning at eleven, making Matthew look up from his stack of paperwork on the table. He hadn't scheduled anyone to work on his house that day, had he? He adjusted his glasses and stood up. It had been a productive morning, but his neck was getting cramped from staring at papers for so long. He was a bit ahead of schedule with the work, but it kept him occupied.

He was already walking to the door when a series of demanding knocks sounded. Definitely not a worker. Matthew paused, folding his arms thoughtfully. The only person who was that rude that showed up at his house on any regular basis was his brother. He suddenly wished he had made coffee when he had gotten up.

Since he had no real reason to leave him outside, Matthew opened the door. "Hey, Al—Gilbert?"

The ex-nation was standing on his doorstep, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. "Hey Birdie."

He couldn't believe his eyes. What was Prussia doing at his house? All he could say, however, was, "…Birdie?"

Gilbert nodded. "You flew out of the conference room pretty fast yesterday."

After the meeting had let out for the day, Matthew had practically bolted out the door. As much as he didn't like the fact that he was generally invisible, the stares he had gotten from Prussia, France, and even Spain for the second half of the meeting had left him on edge. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, are you busy?"

"Just doing some paperwork," Matthew said cautiously. He had heard that question enough from Alfred to be wary. It usually was taken as agreement for Matthew to serve as designated driver for England and his brother, or to come see Alfred's newest exotic pet, or to watch a horror movie while Alfred tried to rip his arm off or crush his ribs.

"Awesome, then you should come with me!" Gilbert said.

Matthew bit his lip. "I'm not sure…"

"Aren't you going to invite me in? Ludwig would nag your ear off over your manners," Gilbert said, breezing by Matthew into the house. He gave Kumajiro, who was sitting by the door, a quick pat on the head, and then went into his kitchen. "What are these?" he called back to Matthew.

Matthew blinked, then closed the front door. Apparently he had a house guest. He went into the kitchen to find Gilbert finishing off his abandoned plate of pancakes. He had only eaten half his breakfast before getting caught up in paperwork, but that had been hours ago. "Aren't those cold?" Matthew asked Gilbert.

The other nation shrugged. "I thought maybe they were supposed to be. I've never had them before. They're delicious!"

"You should try them when they're warm," Matthew said, amused by the look of bliss on the albino's face.

"Geez, how early do you wake up, if you've already cooked these and let them get cold?"

"I think I was up at eight this morning," Matthew said. "That's not so early."

Gilbert's mouth dropped open. "Not that early? I had to set an alarm just to get my ass out of bed before noon!"

"Well, most people don't eat pancakes after noon," Matthew said, sitting back down at the kitchen table in front of his paperwork.

Gilbert pouted. "Can't you just make them for lunch? Or dinner?"

Matthew had actually had pancakes for every meal of the day at some point in his life, but he just said, "Maybe that'll give you a motive to get up earlier."

"I guess so…" Gilbert said thoughtfully. He finished off the last bite, and then set the empty plate on the counter. He had eaten the whole plate standing up, too energetic to even sit down. "That hit the spot. Now, listen—"

"Put that in the sink," Matthew instructed absent-mindedly, looking back down at his papers. The ridiculous things some of his countrymen thought of. Where were they—America?

"Birdie," Gilbert moaned. "Listen!"

Matthew looked up with raised eyebrows. "Put the plate in the sink, and then we can talk." He had learned growing up with Alfred that if you didn't make housework a priority, things got rank pretty quickly. Prussia wasn't just like his brother, but there were enough similarities that Matthew could tell he needed to put his foot down. "I don't want ants."

"Fine," Gilbert said before putting the plate in the sink. "Now, are you ready to go?"

"Go where?"

"You'll see when we get there!"

Matthew frowned. "Why are you here, Gilbert? I thought yesterday—"

"Yeah, I know Francis was being kind of an ass. I told him that he was, then left. I tried to talk to you after the meeting, but you practically Disapparated."

"You told Francis off for me? That's…. Wait, you've read Harry Potter?"

Gilbert dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Saw the films. Good stuff. But I was thinking today we should go—"

"You can't just see the movies! You have to read the books too. They're so much better!" Matthew said.

Gilbert sighed heavily, blowing the hair from his eyes. "It was hard enough to sit still long enough to get through the movies. It took forever to get to the magic and explosions and stuff every time."

"Never read the books…" Matthew said quietly, feeling an odd combination of horrified and offended.

"Damn, you really do take after England," Gilbert observed.

Matthew blushed deeply. "So why—"

"Didn't get the eyebrows though. Thank God."

"_Gilbert,_" Matthew said tensely. "So why are you here? France was right—I am pretty invisible. Look, the me you met the other night… well, that's not the real me. I'm not usually so… loud."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "There's no 'real' you and 'fake' you. There's just… 'you' you. I mean, I have different personalities sometimes too. Sometimes I'm awesome, and sometimes I'm _really _awesome, you know? Anyways, I had fun before, and I like having fun. I don't really see why this is so complicated."

Matthew frowned. "But I—"

"Besides, you haven't been very dormouse-y this morning. Do you ever start bar fights over dirty dishes, or is it just hockey?"

For someone who claimed not to be a morning person, Gilbert's brain seemed to be going awfully fast. "Usually just hockey. And I wasn't _not_ being 'dormouse-y' this morning, I was just surprised you were here and—"

"Perfect. So let's go!"

Matthew wasn't sure that Gilbert was going to have as much 'fun' as he kept saying he wanted, but it sounded like he wasn't going to get any peace and quiet until he cooperated. Gilbert would probably figure out pretty quickly that Matthew was boring, and then he'd be back to doing his paperwork. …That didn't sound as fun in his head as he had expected it to.

"All right. Let's go."

Gilbert picked up the motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it on the counter and tossed it to Matthew, who squeaked and caught it. He blushed when Gilbert laughed at him. "You want to ride on a motorcycle?"

"Hell yeah!" Gilbert strode out of the kitchen, and Matthew had to scramble to catch up. He grabbed his wallet from beside his coat hanger. "Bring your coat too," Gilbert said.

"It's summer," Matthew said.

"Giraffes can clean their ears with their tongues."

"Eh?"

"I thought we were listing useless facts," Gilbert said, smirking. "Just trust me."

Matthew picked up his red hoodie and tied it around his waist. "Fine," he muttered.

It took more convincing to get the Canadian onto the back of the black motorcycle, but Gilbert was adamant. The leather seat was scorching hot under the summer sun, but his jeans protected his legs from the edges of the bike. Gilbert grabbed the hands that Matthew had tentatively placed on his shoulders and wrapped them instead around his waist. Gilbert's firm muscles shifted under Matthew's hands as he started the motorcycle. Matthew was glad Gilbert couldn't see his blush. Though Matthew was wearing the helmet Gilbert had given him, the ex-nation was going without protection, his white hair contrasting brightly against the black motorcycle and asphalt. The motorcycle's engine revved loudly, and then shot forward. Matthew clutched tighter to Gilbert's waist, and could feel the nation laugh, though he couldn't hear him over the sounds of the bike.

OOO

They pulled to a stop outside of a large cement building. Normally, the drive would have taken at least forty-five minutes with the traffic in the city, but Gilbert had weaved in and out among the cars with his motorcycle. It gave him a nice adrenaline rush, and the way Mattie had slowly tightened his grip around Prussia's waist along the way hadn't exactly been a downside.

When they got off the motorcycle, Gilbert turned to Mattie and grinned. "What do ya think? You up for some one-on-one?"

Canada was looking up at the building with a shocked look. He had been a bit bristly earlier, but his expression was soft and pleased. "A skate rink?"

"You can play, right, Birdie? You're not the kind of guy who just watches the sport, are you?"

"Of course I can play," Mattie said. "And is that my official nickname now?"

"Yep! Pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. Besides, birds are the best. Have you met Gilbird? He's back in the hotel room now. I left his earmuffs and scarf at home, and he can't go out in the cold without them," Gilbert said.

Mattie raised an eyebrow at him, but then shook his head softly. "Can you play hockey?"

"Of course!" Well, he never had before, but if Mattie could do it then Gilbert was sure he'd be awesome at it.

They got their skates quickly. The skate rink was bustling on the hot summer afternoon, the city folk looking for an escape from the sun. Mattie got jostled by the crowd a bit until Gilbert fell back to walk beside him. People tended to give him a pretty wide berth in crowds. He figured it was his general awesomeness scaring them off.

"…key," Mattie whispered.

"Huh?"

Mattie cleared his throat. "It's too crowded to play hockey in these rinks." His voice was almost inaudible in the crowded area.

Gilbert laughed. "That's why we're using the one they save for their hockey team," he told him.

"They don't just let anyone on there. If we were up in Canada I could get us in anywhere, but I don't have that much pull in America…"

Gilbert waved off his concerns dismissively. "I reserved it."

Mattie looked at him skeptically.

"I did! Well, I made West do it. Either way, we're set," he explained.

Gilbert led him to the back room. West had given him a full list of written instructions on how to get to the area they had reserved and a guide on how to play hockey, but he had tossed it in the trashcan as he was leaving the room.

By the time they got onto the ice, Matthew had put on a full set of pads, but Gilbert had refused to do so. He had conquered armies before in less armor, so he wasn't going to strap on pounds of padding just to skate on some ice. His new friend had been adamant about making him wear a helmet, and Gilbert had reluctantly put it on.

The rink was empty and silent, the ice smooth and gleaming. Matthew went onto the ice first. Though he had walked around a bit clumsily in the skates and heavy gear, he became immediately graceful when he hit the ice. He did a slow figure-eight, getting adjusted to the ice.

The second Gilbert stepped onto the ice he realized he might have overestimated his skating ability. Unlike Mattie, Gilbert went a bit wobbly. He put one foot in front of the other with determination, but didn't manage to glide more than a foot without having to clench his abs and pull himself upright again. As a country, Prussia—now Germany—had been cold enough to have plenty of ice and snow, but Gilbert had never been much interested in something as mundane as ice skating. He had occasionally been dragged by Ludwig, who saw it as good exercise, but hadn't taken to it. It wasn't until he saw the blood and sweat that could go into hockey that he even had the slightest interest in getting back onto the ice

He watched Mattie's smooth motions for a moment, trying to mimic him, before his left leg suddenly went too far forward. He scrambled to stay upright, but ended up on his ass. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Hey, are you all right?" Mattie asked. He slid to a graceful stop beside Gilbert, sending a small spray of shredded ice flying up from the surface.

Gilbert got to his feet without help from Mattie's offered hand. "I'm fine! Just getting my…ice legs back under me. Just keep warming up. You'll need all the preparation you can get to beat the awesome Prussia!"

His friend went back to skating in circles, and Gilbert made his way slowly around the rink. He didn't fall again, and managed finally to find some sort of rhythm. The key, he discovered, was to go fast and go fearlessly—luckily, that was Gilbert's specialty. He was zipping around the rink happily, feeling the wind rustle through his clothes, when Mattie asked him if he was ready to start the match.

He slowed down with only minor difficulty and met Mattie in the middle of the rink. He had already grabbed a puck and a pair of hockey sticks for them. "Ready?"

"You bet!" Gilbert said. He looked at the puck on the ice, then at the two goals. "So we just try to get the puck into the goals?"

Mattie nodded, smiling. "That's it. You sure you want to do this? If you don't think you can handle it…"

It didn't seem like Mattie was trying to antagonize him, but Gilbert straightened up anyways. "Bring it on," he growled.

Mattie shrugged. "Okay. Count down from three, and we'll go at it. First to five wins?"

Gilbert nodded. He crouched slightly, putting his hockey stick by the puck in preparation. "Five, four, three, two…" Gilbert almost faltered when he saw the look on Mattie's face. Gone was the friendly, hesitant man he'd been hanging out with that day. There was a familiar glint in his eyes, the kind he had worn before picking a fight with a full bar of Americans. Gilbert steeled his gaze and finished, "One."

There was a blur of red, and Mattie was gone, the puck with him. Gilbert whirled around to find Mattie racing towards one of the goals. "Oh hell no," Gilbert muttered, bolting after the blonde. He was just behind Mattie when he shot the puck into the goal, and it went straight in.

"Damn it!" Gilbert shouted.

Mattie looked back at Gilbert with a slightly feral smile. "Problem?"

Blood boiling, Gilbert shook his head. "Not a bit."

"Here, your puck." Mattie pulled it from the net and tossed it to Gilbert. Gilbert took it and raced forward with it. He was so closely focused on keeping the puck in front of him and not losing his footing that he didn't realize that Mattie had caught up with him until it was too late. Suddenly, he was slammed sideways and Mattie took the puck from his control. He hit the ice with a thud, but got to his feet so quickly he barely noticed his own movements.

The bit of violence sent the adrenaline rushing through Gilbert's veins. Ludwig had called him hyper-competitive before—Gilbert didn't see an issue with refusing to be a loser. He ran after Mattie, managing to catch him with a full body check just before he reached the net. Mattie still shot the puck towards the goal, but the last minute hit had knocked his aim off, and the puck went past the net.

Gilbert skated forward to snatch the puck up while he could. Mattie was on his heels almost immediately.

How the hell had he never played hockey before?

At the end of the match, the score was 5 to 2. Though Gilbert's ego was decidedly unhappy about the loss, part of him was pleased to have managed what he had. The Canadian 'dormouse' was an absolute demon on the ice.

Moving stiffly from the continuous contact with the ice, Gilbert was still laughing as they turned in their skates. He patted Mattie a bit harder on the back than he would have before Mattie had kicked his ass. "Good game," he said.

Mattie grinned. His curly hair was matted with sweat, and his violet eyes were bright. "That was fun."

"You on a team or something? That was… well, pretty awesome," Gilbert inquired as they were handed back their shoes.

The Canadian shook his head. "It's not really fair to make humans compete against a nation, eh? I just play for fun. Some humans like the challenge, but I wouldn't want to mess up their stats. America and I used to play, but he's busy a lot now. Russia and I have a match every year."

Gilbert frowned at the mention of the large nation. "And how does that go?"

"It's usually pretty close, but I kicked his ass last year," Mattie said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Way to go, Birdie!" Gilbert cheered, lacing up his boots. "I'll come watch this year. I can paint my chest with a moose or a maple leaf or something."

"You would freeze," Mattie pointed out.

Gilbert shrugged. "I live in Berlin, remember? I can handle a little cold. Now come on, let's grab lunch."

As they merged back into the crowd, fighting their way towards the door, Gilbert noticed Mattie slowly…fade. His shoulders slowly slumped, and the fire dimmed in his eyes. Again, he was pushed around by the crowd. Gilbert frowned. This nation, the second-largest in the world (according to his Wikipedia search the night before), the one who had just beat _Prussia_, wouldn't even shoulder his way through a bunch of humans.

Instead of calling him out on it, however, Gilbert just stepped closer to the other nation and glared at the people around them. Mattie sent him a shy, grateful look, and Gilbert smiled. The kid could play hockey, but Gilbert could use his awesomeness for something around him.

OOO

_**Reviews, like maple syrup, bring happiness to those who receive them. **_


	3. Chapter 3

When Matthew went downstairs, he wasn't overly surprised to find that his kitchen was occupied. What was surprising was that there were two guests this time. Since their hockey game, Gilbert had taken to showing up at Matthew's house at all hours. When he pulled himself out of bed before noon, he got the artic nation to make him pancakes for breakfast, but otherwise he just lounged around. Gilbert tended to talk non-stop when he was there, regaling Matthew with stories that ranged from reliving his days as a powerful nation to sharing the latest dirt on the activities of the self-proclaimed 'Bad Touch Trio.' Matthew had asked if his friends or brother were bothered that he spent so much time with Matthew these days, but Gilbert had assured him that they didn't mind. Gilbert hadn't looked very sad over that, but Matthew had changed the subject quickly anyways, just in case.

As expected, Gilbert was still downstairs where he'd left him to take a shower after their latest excursion (a skate park, where Gilbert had blended in smoothly with the loud-talking skaters), but now sitting across the table from him was Alfred. They weren't speaking to each other, both stubbornly pretending to be occupied by their smartphones.

"Hey, Alfred," Matthew greeted. He continued over to the sink to fill up a glass of water for himself. He nearly grabbed a handful of headache-reliever pills in preparation for any amount of time spent with both Gilbert and Alfred, but decided that was a bit too blatantly rude.

"Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed, putting his phone down and hopping up. He stood up and Matthew put down his water glass quickly. It was a good thing he did, since Alfred immediately engaged him in some new, complicated fist-bump.

"And boom goes the dynamite," Alfred said, opening his hand as though it were an explosion, accompanied by a sound-effect.

"What's going on, Alfred?" Matthew asked.

Alfred shrugged, his eyes flicking to Gilbert. "I just wanted to talk to my bro. I didn't know you'd have company." He looked back and forth between Matthew and Gilbert with narrowed eyes. "So…are you guys screwing?"

Matthew felt a blush practically explode on his face. Quietly, Alfred repeated the sound-effect he'd used for the dynamite fist-bump. "Alfred!" he shouted.

Gilbert laughed loudly, but didn't correct Alfred's misconception.

"We're just friends," Matthew said quickly.

"So, since he's not your boyfriends, I can tell him to GTFO? 'Cause I'm screwing someone new, and wanted to talk to you about it."

"Who?" Gilbert asked curiously.

Alfred just glared at him. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"You just said you were going to tell Birdie about who you were screwing," Gilbert objected.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell anyone but his bro. Now, shoo," Alfred said, gesturing at the door.

Gilbert looked at Matthew, who shrugged. "I'll see you later, Gil."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and stood up. "You owe me pancakes for this, Mattie," he said before leaving.

"I make you pancakes either way," Matthew muttered.

Once the front door shut, Matthew turned to Alfred. "Yes?"

"Shh!" Alfred hushed him.

It wasn't until the sounds of Gilbert's motorcycle started fading that Alfred finally turned back to Matthew. He lost the cool front he'd kept up in front Gilbert and beamed widely. "I think I'm in love."

"I didn't even know you were seeing anyone," Matthew said. He motioned for Alfred to follow him into the living room, and they settled on the couch. Matthew's living room was Canadian to the core, with maple flags, hockey sticks, and rustic furniture. He liked talking to Alfred in here, since it gave him a slight advantage, even in the heart of NYC. Once it became clear that America was hosting many of the world meetings, Matthew had invested in his own place on the outskirts of the city, rather than using the hotels that the rest of the nations did.

Alfred sprawled out on the couch and ran a hand through his blonde hair. He was only a bit bulkier than Matthew, but he seemed to be even large because he insisted on taking up the entirety to every space he entered. He never really got over his 'manifest destiny' phase.

"He didn't want me to tell anyone. He's a really private kind of guy," Alfred explained.

"So why now?"

"Well, I asked him if we could make it serious and he agreed. I want to have a family dinner next week so you can meet him."

"Family as in just us, or are France and England coming too?" Matthew asked.

"Just bros for now," Alfred assured him. "I'm not sure I'd want to throw them all into a small room together. There's only so much I can do to protect people, you know? Not that I'm worried for him—it's France that would probably end up with a bloody nose. From being head-butted, not because of, you know."

Matthew closed his eyes briefly, realizing where this was going. Still, he had to be sure. "Alfred… who exactly are you dating?"

"Can I get a drumroll?"

Matthew gave him a flat look.

Alfred provided his own drumroll. Finally, he exclaimed, "Romano!"

Matthew forced a smile onto his face. God, that had to be the most abusive relationship of all time. "That's great, Al. Um, how did that happen? When do you even see him? Feliciano is normally the representative at meetings."

"I was looking for a sports car, and asked him to come along and help me pick one out," Alfred explained.

"You mean, dragged him along," Matthew guessed.

"Well, he was a little nervous at first. All blustery and adorable. But eventually he got really into the cars, and it was totally fun! So I asked him out after, and he agreed!" Alfred laughed. "Well, his exact words were, 'If you just show up at my house again like you did today, I won't really have a choice, will I, bastard?' but I knew what he meant."

"Romantic," Matthew said dryly.

"Isn't he adorable?" Alfred said, sighing happily. "He's really smart and funny, and completely cute."

Matthew shrugged. "If you say so. I'm glad you're happy. He's not…well, you know…violent?"

Alfred laughed loudly. "There's the occasional headbutt if I embarrass him too bad, but he usually ends up more hurt than me." He flexed his biceps casually.

"Have you guys told North Italy yet?"

His brother grinned. "He made me like ten plates of pasta when he found out. He made Germany and Spain come over right away to celebrate."

"And they were okay with it?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't they?"

Matthew bit his tongue before pointing out that America was the asshole of the world. That comment hadn't gone so well the first time he'd tried it. "Just wondering."

"Spain did threaten me with a big ass axe not to break Lovi's heart, but it's not like I would do that anyways, so we're all good," America said. "Germany just looked really confused…."

Laughing, Matthew nudged Alfred with his foot. "You probably blew his mind," he pointed out.

"Why?" Alfred asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Never mind." Matthew shook his head.

"So what's up with you and Prussia? I didn't know you were friends," Alfred said, pouting a bit.

"It's like I said. We're just friends. We met at a bar last month, and now he comes over occasionally," he explained.

"How often is occasionally?" Alfred said, eyes narrowed.

Matthew paused. "Not usually more than once a day?"

"Mattie!"

"What?" Matthew asked.

"I can't believe you've been hanging out with _Prussia. _What happened to you being all goody-goody? That guy is bad news. He's pretty cool to hang with sometimes, but he's _Prussia_—invader of all vital regions, loud-mouthed, looking for world domination _Prussia_."

Matthew shook his head. "He lives in Germany's basement—he's not exactly still into the world domination scene," he said. He didn't bother pointing out the similarities between the mentioned ex-nation and America.

"And you can't think he just wants you for your friendship."

He cursed his traitorous face for blushing again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means Prussia's a total player. He's looking to score and then bail. Come on, you know his rep."

"I can take care of myself, Alfred," Matthew sniffed. Inside, however, doubts were beginning to rise up. Why _was _Gilbert hanging out with him? Matthew had been having fun, but could he really hope to outshine friends like France and Spain? "Besides, if he's using me for anything, it's pancakes, not… sex. We're not like that."

Alfred crossed his arms. "I'm just trying to look out for you. Just because you want a friend doesn't mean you have to settle for Prussia."

Matthew stood up, glaring down at his brother. "I'm not hanging out with Gilbert because I'm desperate or something. He's fun, he likes my company, and he remembers who I am! He's the only one who remembers who I am!"

"I remember who you are!" Alfred shouted, immediately rising up to stand across from Matthew.

"Then why does it seem like the only time you care is when you have something you need me to do, or you're just trying to interfere with my life?" Matthew snapped. Alfred looked genuinely hurt by that, and Matthew came to his senses. He sat back down, trying to diffuse the tension. "I'm sorry. It's just… I'm happy for you and Romano. Can't you just be happy that I found a friend?"

Alfred frowned. "I'm still not sure about him. Why don't you bring him to dinner with me and 'Mano? If he's not trying to use you, then he might as well get to know us. And if he is… he needs to see what he'll be messing with."

"He's just a friend. He doesn't need to meet the family."

"If he's really important enough to you to make you yell at me over him, then he's important enough to invite to dinner," Alfred said, raising his eyebrows.

He blushed again, embarrassed by his outburst, but didn't back down. "You can't just use it as an excuse to interrogate or intimidate him," Matthew warned.

Alfred laughed. "I can't promise all my guns will be packed away, but I'll be nice. Just tell him to be polite to Romano, and we'll see if he can get my approval." Alfred headed for the door, apparently deciding the conversation was finished.

"He doesn't need your approval!" Matthew called after him.

"See ya next week, Mattie!" And he was gone.

Matthew flopped back in his chair and put a hand over his eyes. "What the maple did I just agree to?"

OOO

"So then America shows up and just kicks me out of the house! I mean, what the hell?" Gilbert ranted, taking another swig of his beer.

"And you just let him?" Francis asked, exchanging a glance with Spain.

The trio was out at a bar for the night, a quieter place than their usual, but the booze was good. They were seated at a corner table. Francis had taken the seat against the wall so he could scope out the rest of the bar, with Antonio and Gilbert on either side of him. Each man was nursing his drink of choice: a beer for Gilbert, wine for Francis, and sangria for Antonio.

"I totally could have taken him if I'd wanted to," Gilbert said quickly. "I would have too, but Mattie also told me to leave."

Francis made a small noise like a whip cracking.

Gilbert glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You backed off from a potential fight just because he told you to," Antonio said as though that explained everything.

"So?"

"Gilbert… _mon ami_, you have to see it. _Mathieu _has you utterly whipped," Francis told him.

"You can't be whipped by someone you're not even sleeping with," Gilbert countered. "I just didn't want to start a fight with his brother in the middle of his house, and—"

"You're not even sleeping with him? It's been more than a month!" Antonio exclaimed. He reached up a tan hand to rest against Gilbert's forehead. "You don't seem sick…."

Gilbert pushed his hand away. "Of course I'm not sick."

"Well, obviously something's wrong with you," Antonio said, looking concerned. He turned to Francis pleadingly. "What's wrong with Gilbert?"

"We just hang out. He's fun to be around. Cute, too, when he's not randomly being badass," Gilbert defended.

"You're not supposed to just be 'friends' with a guy you like that much," Francis said.

"I'm friends with you two and we're not sleeping together!" Gilbert paused, then amended, "Well, not recently."

"Let's go over this, shall we?" Francis said, swirling the wine in his glass. "You like his company. You think he's cute."

"And sometimes badass," Gilbert added.

"Haven't you thought about sleeping with him?" Francis prodded.

"I've thought about sleeping with everyone," Gilbert pointed out. Then again, he had been staring at Mattie's lips a lot lately. And his ass. And his eyes… "But Mattie would stop hanging out with me if I just hit it and quit it."

"Then keep hitting him," Antonio said eagerly. "Wait, that didn't come out right…"

"What _mon chere _Toni is trying to say is that you can sleep with someone and still be their friend. It's called a relationship. A real one."

"You think I should be Mattie's boyfriend?" Gilbert said. "You want _me _to date your ex-colony? _Mein Gott, _you're a terrible father-figure."

"Of course I am," Francis said dismissively. "But in this case I think it'd be good for you and Canada."

Prussia took a long drink from his beer. "And, what, I just tell him to be my boyfriend?"

Antonio and Francis exchanged looks again, which was really starting to piss Gilbert off. When had his two best friends gone and developed secret eyebrow signals behind his back? They were acting like…well, they were sort of acting like he and Francis did whenever Antonio was being particularly oblivious.

"Asking might be a better plan," Antonio pointed out.

Gilbert blinked. "If I ask, he might say no," Gilbert said slowly in case Antonio needed the extra help.

"You have to give him a choice," Francis said. Then he shrugged elegantly, "You've just got to make sure that first you already have him dying for you to ask."

"Obviously," Gilbert snorted. "…And, uh, I do that how?"

"Show him what being your boyfriend would be like. Treat him special. Tell him things you don't tell anyone else (except me and Antonio, of course). Wear something that hugs your ass. Touch him and tease him until he's ready to jump you," Francis said. Gilbert could tell he was just loving having to explain something to Gilbert.

"And then _I_ jump _him_," Gilbert nodded.

"_Mon dieu, _Gilbert, I said date him, not rape him. Though if you don't have sex with him the second you get the chance, I may have to permanently cut contact with you," Francis said, face completely serious.

"So I actually make him my boyfriend. Then what? Bring him flowers and chocolate? Maybe make him breakfast in bed? Wear matching shirts? Cuddle all the time?" he scoffed. Then his eyebrows furrowed. Actually, that all sounded kind of… awesome. He was _Prussia_! He would be as amazing at being a boyfriend as he was at everything else!

Apparently seeing Gilbert's thoughts, Francis patted him on the shoulder. "Tap that, Gilbert. Tap it hard."

OOO

_**Thanks for reading! If you would like to read some examples of the slightly crack but beautiful Romerica pairing, look up the work of Coffee-Flavored Fate.**_


	4. Chapter 4

When the rumble of Gilbert's motorcycle reached Matthew's ears the next day, it was already three o'clock, which meant that Gilbert had not only missed pancakes for breakfast, but that Mattie had already had lunch as well. He gave a small sign of relief—he hadn't realized how worried he'd been that Alfred had scared Gilbert off until he'd shown up. At some point, Gilbert had swiped Matthew's spare key, so he no longer needed to knock on the door before barging into the house. Matthew had considered protesting, but didn't have it in him. He was actually a bit…pleased that someone cared enough about his company to steal his key.

Shaking his head at his own thoughts, Matthew looked up at Gilbert strode into the living room. Matthew had the television muted while he read over his new proposal for the next world meeting. Even if most people wouldn't notice him present it, the grammar needed to be perfect if they decided to read it later.

"Hey, Birdie," Gilbert said, beaming. Gilbird, who was tucked in Gilbert's hair and looking thoroughly windblown, was sporting a pair of miniature goggles and a leather vest. Gilbert disentangled the bird from his head and set him down to perch on a lampshade. The yellow bird remained there for only a second before flying away. Matthew figured he was off looking for Kuma, with whom he spent most of his time at Matthew's place.

"You look happy today," Matthew observed.

"I guess I am," he replied. Gilbert sprawled onto the couch next to him, leg brushing against him. Matthew felt a blush light his cheeks at the contact, but forced himself not to seem flustered. Ever since Alfred had asked him if he was dating Gilbert, the idea had been stuck in Matthew's head. Gilbert was always pretty physical, so much so that it seemed like Gilbert was always touching him in some way, but Matthew was more aware of it now. He had known conceptually that Gilbert was handsome, but with the ex-nation right next to him, it became undeniable. His white hair was tousled from the ride over, and his pale cheeks were slightly flushed. The bright red eyes that had startled Matthew when he had been younger were now a visual marker of Gilbert's vibrant eccentricity. This man was beautiful. Why was he here?

When he realized that he'd been staring at Gilbert's eyes, and he had been staring right back, Matthew quickly averted his gaze. "Why?"

"Let's go somewhere," Gilbert said.

Used to the sudden jumps in topic by now, Matthew nodded. "Sure. What's on the agenda for today?"

When they weren't hanging out at Matthew's house, Gilbert tended to find the most surprising ways to spend their time. After the hockey match, it seemed as though Gilbert was determined to throw Matthew into situations that would bring out his competitive side. Though they spent plenty of time just relaxing in Matthew's house, part of him wondered if his hockey-player side was the only part of him that Gilbert really liked. He wasn't always successful—even Prussia egging him on wasn't enough to make Matthew confident enough to sing at a karaoke bar, but they had had a great time road-tripping a few hours north on Canada's birthday to go white-water rafting.

"I've been craving ice cream all day," Gilbert said. "You up for it?"

Surprised, Matthew agreed. "Sure."

At that point, Matthew was used to getting onto the motorcycle behind Gilbert without hesitation. This time, however, Matthew was hyper-aware as he wrapped his arms around Gilbert's waist. Matthew could feel his heat through his thin cotton shirt. He had seen Gilbert shirtless, so had no trouble envisioning the lean, pale torso hidden by the shirt.

But Alfred was right. This was Prussia, vital-region seizer extraordinaire. If anything, Matthew should be grateful that he had been able to form a real friendship with Gilbert, rather than being seduced and dumped months ago.

He hadn't realized his grip was loosening until one of Gilbert's hands grabbed one of his own and pulled it tighter around his waist. "Hold tight, Birdie!" Gilbert called. Matthew could feel him say something else, but couldn't hear him over the wind.

It wasn't too long until they ended up in a park in the suburbs. Matthew took off his helmet and looked around in confusion until he spotted a small ice cream shop sitting at the edge of the parking lot, a tantalizing offer at the entrance of the small park. Since it was late July and the afternoon was sweltering, there was a long line in front of the order windows. Gilbert rolled his eyes, but they went to the back of the line. When they'd first started hanging out, Gilbert had tried to cut to the front of every line they encountered, but eventually Matthew just refused to join him, making him wait just as long for Matthew to reach the front.

Once they got their ice cream—maple for Matthew, chocolate toffee for Gilbert—the pair headed under the shade of the park. The tall trees extended their branches over the path, casting a dappled shadow over the area. There were kids on the scattered swing sets, but they found a bench to sit on that was secluded from the rest of the park.

Gilbert leaned back against the arm rest, facing Matthew. Matthew took another lick of his ice cream cone and smiled. "I can't believe they had a maple flavor," he said.

Gilbert shrugged. "I Googled it earlier."

"Really?" Matthew asked, looking up from his ice cream to his companion.

"No need to sound so shocked," Gilbert grumbled. "I can be thoughtful."

"I know, I was just…" Matthew trailed off. "Thanks."

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the threat of melting ice cream overpowering their need to talk to each other right away. There was a light breeze that ruffled Matthew's hair gently, and he closed his eyes briefly to enjoy it. This was so…pleasant. When he had first started his friendship with Prussia, the words 'pleasant' and 'relaxing' would never have crossed his brain as adjectives to describe his time with the ex-nation. Gilbert was excessively blunt, too loud, and beyond pushy. However, he could also be thoughtful and funny, and he never forgot who Matthew was.

Matthew popped the last bit of the cone into his mouth, closed his eyes, and sighed contentedly. When his eyes fluttered back open, Gilbert had moved closer to him on the bench, staring at the hand still hovering in front of Matthew's mouth. Matthew's eyes widened as Gilbert slowly grasped his wrist, bringing his hand close to Gilbert's face.

"What…?" Matthew asked, heart pounding in his ears.

His breathing stopped entirely when a warm tongue slowly ran its way up his fingers. The held breath was let out in a pant when Gilbert reached the tips of his fingers, and then swiped his tongue back down. He tilted the hand and licked Matthew's thumb before pressing a light kiss to the skin. His bright red eyes snapped up to look at Matthew's face, and he slowly licked his lips.

"Eh," Matthew stuttered, unable to pull his hand away even as the blood rushed simultaneously to his cheeks and much farther south.

"Some of your ice cream… dripped," Gilbert said softly.

"Um, thanks," Matthew said, finally gathering his senses enough to pull his hand back.

What the maple had just happened?

Gilbert leaned back against his side of the bench, apparently unconcerned with Matthew's stuttering. Did he often lick his friends? "How did your talk with America go?" he asked.

It took a moment for Matthew's brain to catch up. "Oh, the usual."

Gilbert laughed, but waited for him to continue.

Matthew shrugged. "He likes to barge in occasionally and try to run my life…when he remembers that he has a brother."

"Yeah, West gets like that sometimes. He's bossy as all hell. I don't see him too much nowadays though."

"Since you're over here all the time?" Matthew asked, relaxing into the conversation.

Gilbert stretched back over the edge of the bench, shirt riding up to reveal a strip of his pale stomach. He sat back up, and Matthew redirected his eyes to Gilbert's face. "There's that, but he's also out with Veneziano a lot. Apparently the mean Italy's been out of the house a lot lately, so they go over to Italy's place for alone time." Gilbert waggled his eyebrows, then his smile fell. "When he's not off doing important country things, that is."

"Gilbert…" Matthew said, almost reaching out to touch his shoulder, but restraining himself.

Gilbert's smile came back as quickly as it had disappeared. "Sucks for him! For him, being a nation is a 24/7 job. I get all the perks without having to file any paperwork!"

Matthew looked down at a line of ants on the path, watching their slow progress. "You don't miss it?" he asked.

"Of course n—" Gilbert cut himself off. Matthew glanced up to see him looking at Matthew thoughtfully, and Matthew quickly looked back down at the ants. "I don't miss all of it," he continued hesitantly, "but, well, life gets sort of _boring _without anything to do. That sounded stupid. What I mean is that back then I had a goal. A purpose. And now… Plus, it sort of sucks when people forget that I'm still around. Not that I let them for very long, obviously. No one should miss out on the awesome that is me."

"I understand," Matthew said softly. He frowned slightly. "Well, not really about the 'making them remember' part, but definitely the 'being forgotten in the first place.'"

They were silent for a moment. Gilbert broke the moment by throwing his arm over Matthew's shoulder. "Their loss, Birdie," he said. "Now, come on. Let's walk for a bit."

They followed the park path up through the woods. The park was small, but the path meandered throughout, making it seem larger than it was. There were birds chirping in the trees, and Matthew smiled softly at the reminder of Gilbird. He hoped he and Kumajiro were still getting along. He'd hate to get home and have to apologize to Gilbert for his bear eating Gilbert's pet.

Gilbert got swept away in telling Matthew about one of the Bad Touch Trio's escapades, a story which involved walkie talkies, maid outfits, and one very unlucky bread pudding. Matthew never laughed as much as he did in Gilbert's company. He told stories with his whole body, gesturing broadly. Once the story was over, however, Gilbert's arm came to rest across Matthew's shoulders. It was a hot day, but the extra warmth from Gilbert's arm made Matthew flush from more than just the heat.

They stayed out until the sun began to set, and then drove back to Matthew's house. Matthew wrapped his arms around Gilbert's waist as they drove, feeling lazy and contented. The day had cooled into a beautiful evening, warm and peaceful.

Once Matthew had checked on Kuma and Gilbird (who were both peacefully sleeping on the kitchen floor), he went into the living room where Gilbert was already sprawled on the couch. Matthew hesitated, then sat next to Gilbert rather than in one of the armchairs.

"That was fun," he said, smiling at Gilbert as he sat down. Gilbert's eyes ran from Matthew's face straight down to his toes, and then back again. Matthew felt the gaze almost like a physical touch. "What do you want to do—"

He was cut off when Gilbert suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips against Matthew's. Matthew's eyes widened, unsure how to react. Gilbert was warm pressed against him, and his lips were moving gently.

Matthew opened his mouth, whether to protest or encourage his friend he didn't know, but Gilbert took the opportunity to slip his tongue through Matthew's lips. He explored Matthew's mouth deeply, as though he was devouring him, and Matthew moaned softly. The small noise surprised Matthew, but seemed to encourage Gilbert. Before he knew it, he was on his back on the couch with Gilbert lying on top of him... and Matthew was kissing back. His tongue tangled with Prussia's, and his hands went around him, one at his neck to keep him in place while the other explored his lean back over his cotton shirt.

This was… nice. Oh, who was he kidding, this was amazing! Gilbert's mouth and hands were driving him crazy, and he was loving every second. He moaned again and pushed upwards with his whole body, trying to wrap himself more thoroughly around Gilbert. He ran his hand through Gilbert's hair, enjoying the feel of the short strands brushing against his skin.

A warm hand made its way leisurely down Matthew's side, brushing his ribs with enough force to not be ticklish, making its way slowly but steadily downwards. Though the kissing was breathtaking, his attention became focused on that hand. It made its way to his hip, and then slid inwards, brushing against Matthew's groin. He gasped half at the jolt of pleasure that coursed through him, half in surprise.

Gilbert's hand didn't move, steadily groping Matthew through his jeans. Those amazing lips left Matthew's lips to trail down his face and to his neck, where they settled for a moment before making their way to his collarbone. Matthew felt overwhelmed with pleasure, but the 'overwhelmed' was starting to outweigh the 'pleasure.' "Um, Gil," Matthew breathed.

"Mattie," Gilbert said, tasting the name as thoroughly as he was the rest of Matthew. "Your shirt's in my way," he added, pulling his collar down to continue his warm trail down Matthew's chest. The hand below stroked at him with increasing speed, making his jeans uncomfortably tight.

This was too much, too sudden, too fast. Matthew lurched slightly to the side, just enough to dislodge Gilbert's lips. "St-stop," he said.

Gilbert pressed a kiss to his neck. "Why?"

His hands were still driving Matthew crazy, and he reached down to smack Prussia's hand away. "Gilbert, just…stop."

Gilbert's red eyes focused on Matthew's face, still hazy with lust, but cleared after a moment. He sat up quickly, leaving Matthew suddenly bereft of the warmth he'd been drowning in. Matthew propped himself up on his elbows, watching the indecipherable emotions race across Gilbert's face. "Sorry," the ex-nation muttered.

Matthew shook his head. "It's okay, it's just…" The words wouldn't come, so he just leaned forward and gave Gilbert a brief kiss on the cheek.

Gilbert gave him another unreadable look, then stood up. "Sorry, I should go."

Matthew felt his stomach sink. "Are you okay?"

Gilbert flashed him a wide grin. "I'm awesome! We should do that again soon. But right now I've got to…" He turned and left the room.

Matthew sat up the rest of the way, feeling stunned. It wasn't unusual for Gilbert to get distracted and leave during the middle of a conversation, but never when it was something important. Matthew hesitated. Was this not important to Gilbert?

Gilbert came back into the room, Gilbird securely in his still-messy hair. He rubbed at the back of his neck and didn't meet Matthew's eyes. "Listen, I'd better go. I'll see you later. Soon." And then he was gone.

Matthew fell back against the couch, mind racing. Gilbert, his best—maybe only—friend had just kissed him, and then run out the door. Had it been a mistake? Gilbert was known for being a bit handsy. Maybe he had been feeling horny and just jumped the first person he'd seen? And then he'd come to his senses, realized it was just Canada he was kissing and thought better of it. Or maybe… Maybe he was mad that Matthew had made him stop. Prussia wasn't known for being a good sport when he didn't get his way.

What if Alfred was right, and the only reason Gilbert had been hanging out with him was to… But they hadn't, so would Gilbert try again? Or never come back at all?

Matthew was confused about Gilbert's motives, but he had even less of an idea of what he wanted. Gilbert was his best friend. Sleeping with him might ruin that. It had felt so nice, though. He and Gilbert could hang out as usual, and then have fun after hours, too.

Matthew huffed under his breath. He wasn't really the kind of guy to be a, a booty call. Gilbert didn't seem to be seriously interested in him, considering how fast he'd bolted. If they go together, it would mean so much more to Matthew than to his friend, and Matthew knew that would break his heart.

Gilbert was funny and sexy and amazing, but Canada wouldn't be used by him.

Matthew nodded to himself and curled onto his side and wrapped his arms across his own chest. Yeah, he'd made up his mind. Why didn't he feel better about it?

OOO

_**Sending in a review is like giving a big hug to Mattie! 3**_


	5. Chapter 5

When Gilbert got to Matthew's house the next morning, Matthew was nowhere to be found. He glanced down at his watch. He had woken up earlier than usual to make sure he arrived in time for pancakes, but since it was already nine, Mattie was sure to be awake. Gilbert plopped down at the kitchen table. Now that he listened, he could hear the sound of water moving in the pipes—Mattie must have been upstairs taking a shower. Naked. Wet. Gilbert blinked, trying to clear the image out of his mind. Gilbert had used more self-control the night before than he'd thought he even had, and he wasn't going to blow that by bending Matthew over the kitchen table at nine in the morning. Not before they'd done it somewhere else first, at least.

Bored already, Gilbert stood up and started rummaging around the kitchen for the ingredients Mattie used to make those amazing pancakes. It probably wasn't that hard to make them. Besides, it would be a nice gesture for their first official day as boyfriends. Never after that though—there was no way that Prussia was going to be the housewife of this couple. Maybe he'd have to buy Mattie an apron and make him wear it…with nothing else on.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert turned around. He'd been so distracted thinking that he hadn't heard Mattie enter the kitchen. Gilbert silently cursed that Mattie had gotten dressed after his shower. "Hey, Birdie," Gilbert greeted, turning back to the cabinet he was rummaging through. "Where do you keep your eggs?"

"I'm not a real bird, Gilbert."

Gilbert cackled. "I mean for cooking pancakes."

"Not in the cupboard."

Gilbert huffed and turned to the fridge instead. Mattie's fridge was clean but unorganized, so Gilbert had to restack some things to find the carton of eggs.

"I'm not making pancakes."

Shrugging, Gilbert grabbed the buttermilk and eggs and turned around. "I can make 'em," he told him. "But just this once." Now what else went in these? He remembered that flour was involved, and baking…something. Powder? Or was it soda? "What's the difference between baking powder and baking soda? Aren't they both technically powders?" Gilbert mused out loud as he pulled both from the other cabinet.

Behind him, Mattie sighed. "I'm surprised you're here."

Gilbert blinked. There was something wrong with the way Mattie was speaking today. It wasn't just his usual early-morning gruffness. He set down the baking things and turned to look at Mattie. The nation was leaning against the doorframe, still not even completely in the room. There were dark bags under his violet eyes and a frown on his lips.

"Why?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking at Mattie with concern.

To his surprise, Mattie flinched slightly. Color rose in his cheeks. "You sort of…ran away last night."

"Yeah," Gilbert said, thinking back. "I had to go take a cold shower." And by 'take a cold shower,' he meant 'jack off to the memory of Mattie moaning beneath him.' But he was determined to be a good boyfriend, so no pushing thing with the other nation too far and making him uncomfortable. Well, not _too_ uncomfortable.

"Why?" This time Mattie was asking the question.

Gilbert raised his eyebrows and leaned against the counter. "Because Gilbone wasn't cooperating. You're the one you said you wanted to stop."

"You call your dick Gilbone?" Mattie exclaimed before shaking his head. "I mean…" He took a deep breath. "Why did you k-kiss me?"

"Because you're sexy and adorable," Gilbert said.

Matthew frowned. "We can't do that again. So if that's why you're here, you—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Gilbert said, pushing off the counter and approaching Mattie. The other nation looked extremely uncomfortable, so Gilbert stopped a few feet away, but pressed, "What are you talking about? Look, I know we went a little fast, but I stopped when you asked. Did you not like it?" Gilbert's jaw dropped. "Shit, are you straight?"

"No, I'm not straight," Mattie said, "and I… It doesn't matter whether I… Look, I'm not like you, Gil, or France, even if he raised me. I don't just have sex with my friends. I know it's really casual for you, but I'm sorry, I think it's more than that, and I can't just do _that_ with anyone."

Gilbert felt like he'd been slapped. "What do you mean 'anyone?' I'm not just _anyone _to you, am I? I know for fucking sure that you're not just anyone to me."

Matthew shrugged, an unusually bitter look on his face. What the fuck was going on here? "You're _Prussia_. You sleep around. You 'conquer.' That's fine, that's just who you are, but I'm not a conquest."

"_Mein Gott, _what has been going on in that brain of yours?" Gilbert asked. He walked up and put his hands firmly on Mattie's shoulders. They were almost exactly the same height, but normally Matthew was slouched so much that Prussia had the clear advantage, but now as he stood with a straight back, they were staring directly into each other's eyes. "Mattie… Matthew, I'm not just looking for a one-night thing. I'm looking for an every night and every day thing."

"What?" Matthew looked completely bewildered.

How had things gotten so FUBAR? He'd done everything Francis and Antonio had suggested, except he was sensitive enough to not keep pressing Mattie for sex the night before, like France would have. That didn't seem to be the problem though. He'd shared things with Mattie that he hadn't told other people, he'd found the one place in the city that served maple ice cream. Hell, he'd even worn his best ass-hugging jeans! He thought back over the advice, then closed his eyes briefly. Had he actually _asked _Mattie to be his boyfriend? He'd definitely thought about it… Whoops. So not awesome.

"Birdie, I want to be your boyfriend. I think you're pretty awesome. You're adorable, but you can also be totally badass, and you laugh at the stupid shit I say, but smack me if I'm being too stupid. I know I used to be all sex, all the time, but I want something more with you. I mean, I definitely want sex with you, when you're ready, but…well, you matter enough to me for me not to rush you. That's why I left last night, you know. I only have so much self-control when you're all moaning and red and…" Seeing that the color was rising in Mattie's cheeks, Gilbert quickly moved on, "What I'm saying is I'm serious about you. I think we'd be an awesome couple."

Matthew's eyes were wide. "I…"

"Just give me a chance, Mattie. Let me prove that I can be a great boyfriend. Maple ice cream? Every day you want it. Mind-blowing sex? Multiple times a day. Plus, you know, support and… stuff."

"You want to go out with _me_?"

Gilbert grinned. "Yep!" Then he snorted softly at himself. "And since I still haven't actually asked… Birdie, will you be my boyfriend?"

Matthew looked stunned. "I… Yes… Please."

Gilbert laughed and swooped in for a kiss, hands sliding from Mattie's shoulders to his waist and holding him tightly. It was a gentler kiss than their first one, a tribute to their confidence that there would be plenty to follow.

Gilbert pecked him again on the mouth, and then trailed kisses up to Mattie's ear. He nibbled lightly on his pale earlobe, earning a soft moan from Mattie in response. Those moans were quickly becoming Gilbert's new addiction. However, he had another addiction to satisfy as well. "Hey, Mattie," he prompted softly.

"Mhm?" the blonde murmured, hands running slowly through Gilbert's hair.

Gilbert gave his ear a quick kiss before continuing, "So, you weren't serious about the 'no pancakes this morning' thing, were you?"

Mattie huffed. "Are you only going to date me for my pancakes?"

Gilbert quickly looked at Mattie's face, relieved to see that he was smiling. The albino kissed him on the lips, feeling the smile melt into a returned kiss. "Not just the pancakes," Gilbert assured him. "I want to kiss you all day long, and I need something to keep my stamina up."

"Pancakes it is," Mattie replied.

OOO

Matthew and Gilbert bought tickets for a concert a few nights later. Dating Gilbert did not mean spending all their time with their lips plastered together. There had been a nice blend of enjoying the other's company and exploring the other's body. To Matthew's slight surprise, Gilbert hadn't pushed for sex immediately. Their make-out sessions involved copious groping on both parts, and they'd both been shirtless and panting by the end, but it hadn't progressed beyond that. Matthew didn't want to deny Gilbert something he wanted, especially when Matthew wanted it too, but he was hesitant to go that far, and Gilbert had been surprisingly observant enough to notice. It hadn't taken long for Matthew to admit that he was a virgin, since Gilbert had bluntly asked him the night they had officially decided to date. He had worried his inexperience would bother Gilbert, but the ex-nation had assured him that he'd have been more jealous than pleased if Matthew had slept with someone else first.

It wasn't that Matthew was a prude. Sure, his brother and neighbor Alfred was a bit Puritan, and England was prim and proper, but he _had _been raised by France. He wanted his first time to be meaningful and with someone he loved, but he wanted it to happen soon.

"You ready to go?" Gilbert strolled into the bathroom where Matthew was brushing his hair without bothering to knock, just as Matthew hadn't bothered to lock the door. Once he saw him, Gilbert let out a low whistle. "Looking hot, Birdie."

Matthew had picked a pair of black skinny jeans from the back of his closet and worn one of his striped button-downs on top. Alfred had gifted him with the jeans a year ago when they'd first become a huge thing in America, and promised Matthew they would look amazing on him, but Matthew had never had the confidence before to wear something so form-fitting. He felt like he wasn't hiding anymore, and that felt great, even if the jeans were much tighter than anything he was used to.

Matthew smiled. "You look great yourself," he said, stepping forward to brush his lips across Gilbert's. His boyfriend was wearing ripped gray jeans with a black shirt that boldly advertised the name of the band they were seeing that night. Matthew couldn't believe his luck that he'd ended up with someone so amazing. Gilbert's hands brushed over Matthew's ass, and Matthew pulled away from the kiss. "Hands to yourself if we're going to make it to the concert on time."

Gilbert smirked. "No one goes to concerts on time."

A half hour late and looked ruffled than when they'd first gotten ready, Matthew and Gilbert arrived at the club. Motorcycle rides were better than ever now that they were dating, since Matthew got to enjoy the feeling of wrapping his arms around Gilbert even more.

The music was already pounding by the time they got inside. Bodies bounced and writhed around them, pulsing to the music. The band played technopop music with a heavy beat that thrummed through Matthew's body. An arm around his waist stopped Matthew from getting crushed by the crowd as they made their way over to the bar.

Gilbert ordered his usual beer while Canada ordered Yukon Jack on the rocks, and downed them immediately. It was too loud to talk without screaming, so their conversation stayed at the bare minimum as they drank. "More?" Gilbert asked Matthew.

He nodded. "Let's go for it," he said. Two rounds later, they moved onto the dance floor. Canada was by no means a lightweight, but the alcohol hit his system quickly, making him feel light and warm.

Rather than being pushed around by the other people in the club, Matthew shouldered his way into the center of the dance floor with Gilbert. When Matthew stopped, Gilbert pressed close behind him, grinding rhythmically. Matthew held onto the arms wrapped around his waist, pressing back into Gilbert. The music pounded and the heat and alcohol made Matthew's blood race. It took only a few songs for Matthew to give up, turn around in Gilbert's grasp and put his arms around his neck, grinding them together.

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up, but then he eagerly pulled Matthew in for a kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance, and for once Matthew was determined to come out on top. He ran his hands up and down Gilbert's back, getting as much contact as he could. Matthew gave Gilbert open-mouthed kisses down to his neck and settled there, nipping and sucking. Gilbert had given him a hickey earlier in the week—it was time for Matthew to return the favor.

He felt more than heard Gilbert's groan, and it made him work harder to make him do it again. Once he was finally satisfied, he kissed his way up to Gilbert's ear. "Do you want to take this somewhere else?"

Gilbert nodded, and they made their way off the dance floor. They stood outside of the club for a minute, looking at Gilbert's motorcycle parked on the street. Exchanging a glance with his boyfriend, Matthew sighed, "Cab?"

Gilbert grabbed Matthew's hand and led him down the street. "Alley," he said.

They only got a few feet into the dark alley before Matthew grew impatient and pushed Gilbert against the brick wall and resumed kissing him. Gilbert tasted like beer and something indefinably _Gilbert. _Matthew tasted every inch of his mouth. After a minute, Gilbert tried to turn them around, but Matthew grabbed his hands and put them against the wall. Gilbert always got to be in control, but this time Matthew wanted to do the exploring. Gilbert pushed back for a minute until Matthew moved the kiss down to Gilbert's neck, adding another hickey beside the first. When he let go of Gilbert's hands, Gilbert wrapped them around Matthew's back rather than trying to reverse positions again.

Still, it wasn't enough. Matthew delved his hands lower than he had ever before, hands brushing over the front of Gilbert's jeans. Gilbert leaned into his touch, groaning. Still energized by the alcohol and the taste of Gilbert, Matthew had the confidence to unzip Gilbert's jeans and stroke him skin to skin. Gilbert's moaning made Matthew's blood rush, and he locked lips with him again so he could absorb every sound.

Suddenly, the phone in the pocket next to Matthew's hand buzzed, and then a loud ringtone began playing, "Vamos ala playa, a mi me gusta bailar, el ritmo de la noche, sounds of fiesta!"

Matthew jumped backwards, startled, and Gilbert glared down at his pants. "Fuck," Gilbert muttered. With unsteady hands, he pulled out the phone and put it on silent. "Just Antonio," Gilbert said, gesturing for Matthew to come back to him. Matthew was about to when Gilbert looked back down at the phone, and his eyes went wide. "Oh shit."

Still panting, Matthew asked, "What happened?"

Gilbert turned the phone around to show Matthew. "Francis got himself shot."

OOO

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Gilbert's erection had died down. Thank God too, or Francis would think that Gilbert had some sort of hospital fetish. Matthew had almost refused to come, insisting that Francis wouldn't want him there, but Gilbert had dragged him along anyways.

Gilbert barged into the hospital room the nurse had directed him to, hand grasping Mattie's so he wouldn't get left behind. "What happened?" he demanded. Francis was sitting up in the hospital bed, chatting with Antonio and looking perfectly healthy. "What the hell?"

"Gilbert!" Francis exclaimed, gesturing for them to come in. "Oh, and _mon petite Mathieu_! You came to see your papa!" The man ran his eyes over the blonde nation, lingering on his sinfully tight jeans.

Gilbert stalked over to the bed and glared down at Francis. "Are you even hurt?"

Francis pouted and nodded, lifting up his left arm to show the bandage on his bicep. "_Mon dieu, _it hurts."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "Did it go very deep?"

"It actually just clipped his on the side, straight in and out. It missed any arteries or bones," Antonio put in cheerfully. "It's a miracle!"

Looking a bit queasy, Francis said, "Actually, I think it exactly where it was intended. If he was really aiming for me…" He shuddered, and then grinned. "It shows he really likes me! He's shot people way worse over less."

"Who shot you?" Mattie asked softly.

"Well, I was in a bar when a lonely-looking, handsome man caught my eye. When he turned around, I realized I knew him! So, being the kind, generous man I am, I went over to offer him some company," Francis explained. "He told me to back off, but I said 'Non!'… and then he shot me."

"Who?" Gilbert demanded.

"…Vash."

"You hit on Switzerland!" Gilbert exclaimed. That was absolutely insane and idiotic… "So, did he seem interested?"

"He shot him," Mattie pointed out.

"He was totally into me," Francis told Gilbert, smirking.

"Way to go, Francey!" Gilbert said, high-fiving his uninjured hand.

Mattie looked between Francis and Gilbert in confusion. "He shot you," Mattie repeated.

"Sometimes, the more they deny it, the more they want it, _chere_," Francis explained.

"A little violence can make a relationship all the more fun," Antonio added, smiling knowingly.

Remembering why he had been angry, Gilbert added, "So you're not even really hurt? We came all the way over here!"

"Interrupted something, did I?" Francis chuckled. "Well, God forbid my being shot stops you too from getting it on."

"Thanks, Francis! C'mon, Mattie, let's go," Gilbert said.

"I think he was being sarcastic," Mattie muttered.

"_Non_, I am completely serious. Gilbert has shown his worry for me, and now I release him from the duties of friendship for the night," Francis said, waving for them to leave.

"_Adios_! Have fun!" Antonio called after them as Gilbert pulled Mattie from the room.

As they waited for their cab, Mattie said, "That was… strange."

Gilbert shrugged. "If I had a Euro for every time one of us ended up in the hospital after hitting on someone… Nations are hardy, but even we can only take so many hits to the head from a frying pan."

"You hit on Hungary a lot?" Mattie asked as they got into the cab.

Gilbert told the driver to drop them off at the club so Gilbert could pick up his motorcycle before turning back to Mattie, "Usually I was actually propositioning Austria, and she just got jealous, but sometimes I offered threesomes."

Mattie laughed quietly, but seemed tense.

"I'm totally over them, though," Gilbert reassured him with a wink. "You're my main squeeze now."

"And the, um, violence thing? Is that what you want?"

"There's not one kind of sex that's better than the rest," Gilbert told him seriously. "Every couple does things differently. There's always some push and pull, though." He paused, hesitating. He felt a blush rising up on his cheeks and cursed himself—so unawesome! "But listen, Birdie, about earlier…"

When Gilbert paused too long, Matthew prompted, "Yeah, Gil?"

The concern in Mattie's eyes was too much for Gilbert, and he looked anywhere but his boyfriend as he snapped, "I don't bottom. Ever. That's just… No."

He glanced over at Mattie, who was blushing furiously. The nation looked cautiously up at the cab driver to make sure he wasn't listening, then quietly said, "I wasn't trying to… to force myself on you, or something. You could have just told me to stop." He paused, and then continued, "I'm really sorry. Sometimes with the alcohol and the adrenaline… I get a bit…"

"Dominant?" Gilbert suggested.

Mattie looked like he was about to reply, but the cab pulled up in front of the club, and the couple transferred to Gilbert's motorcycle. By that point, Gilbert had sobered up entirely, and felt no qualms about driving home. Mattie was quiet, eyes downcast as he climbed on behind Gilbert. The albino wanted to say something to get rid of the sad expression on his boyfriend's face, but couldn't find the right words, so they drove home in silence.

When they got to Mattie's house, the other nation went immediately to check in on Kuma and Gilbird. Without checking to see what Gilbert was doing, Mattie got a slab of salmon from the fridge and tossed in into the silver dog bowl he kept around for the bear. Gilbert leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, watching him. There was a slump in Mattie's shoulders that Gilbert hated to see. It was the posture of the withdrawn, self-conscious Canada that Gilbert had met after their first night out, not the more relaxed and confident man with whom Gilbert had become friends. He hadn't realized what a dramatic change Mattie had gone through recently until it was suddenly reversed.

When Gilbert had asked Mattie out, it was with full knowledge of the two sides of Mattie's personality: the adorable, kind side that he normally showed, and the aggressive side that only came out when provoked by alcohol, hockey, or some other trigger. At first, it had been the aggressive side that Gilbert had been most interested in, but after a while he had learned to love the gentler side of the nation as well, though it was different than anything Gilbert had dealt with before.

"It wasn't you," Gilbert said suddenly.

Shoulders tense, Mattie patted Gilbird's head, not turning around to look at his boyfriend. "Alfred says that too—I'm not myself when I'm so... 'dominant.' I didn't mean to make you mad."

Gilbert shook his head, though the blonde couldn't see him. "I mean the issue earlier… wasn't your fault. You… You were right. I could have just pushed you off."

Mattie slowly turned around, looking at Gilbert with wide, vulnerable eyes.

Gilbert almost stopped talking, but then scolded himself. He was Gilbert fucking Beilschmidt. He could talk about this like a man. Only pussies were too wimpy to tell the truth… even if it was as embarrassing as fuck. "The problem isn't that you did it—it's that I liked it. I was all moaning and squirming like a fucking bottom. I'm _Prussia_—I can't be the bitch in this relationship… even if I'm _not _a country anymore. A man's got to have his pride, Mattie."

Mattie frowned, arms across his chest in a way that looked more like he was hugging himself than crossing his arms. "But I should do it."

"Huh?"

"Well, if you're being the 'man' and keeping your 'pride,' then what does that make me? A woman who doesn't need pride?" the other nation muttered, eyes wounded. "That doesn't sound very fair, Gilbert."

Ouch. He'd gotten a 'Gilbert' from Mattie. "That's not what I meant! It'd be totally awesome if _you _bottomed! Don't you _want _to bottom?" Gilbert grinned at Mattie, trying to salvage the situation. "I'd make you love it."

Mattie flushed a brilliant shade of red, but managed to answer with minimal stuttering. "It doesn't… Listen to yourself! You obviously completely scorn people who… who bottom. Why would I want to… to put myself in that situation with you? So you could conquer me? Make me do something _you_ would never do?"

Gilbert's jaw dropped, stunned. "I didn't…" Gilbert trailed off. "I don't want you to bottom so I can 'conquer' you," Gilbert said. At least, not in the way Matthew meant it. Gilbert shook his head to clear his thoughts, and tried to find a way to voice what he meant. "I want to be the one giving the attention, not receiving it. It's not because I think you're weak. It's because I want to be strong _for_ you, to make you happy."

Matthew looked down at his hands, which were fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Oh."

"I'm serious," Gilbert insisted. "I love you. I just…" This conversation was failing. Gilbert was furious at himself. His bout of honesty had made Mattie completely mad at him. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this 'boyfriend' stuff.

To his surprise, Mattie made his way across the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Gilbert's waist. "It's okay, Gil."

"What?" Gilbert asked, surprised.

Mattie pulled back and looked Gilbert in the eyes. "I get it. Well, I don't _get _it, but I believe you. That I'm not just…whatever to you. And… I love you, too."

Finally hugging Mattie back, Gilbert realized that they hadn't told each other they loved each other before. Gilbert wondered why it had taken him so long.

_**Please review! **_


	6. Chapter 6

"Mmm, right there."

"I need to rub everywhere."

"It's not too much for you?"

"Gil, I can handle this. I need to do this for you."

"Hurry up, though. This heat is driving me crazy."

"Just let me—"

"Hey, I'm ticklish there!"

"Sorry. Ugh, now my hands are covered in this white stuff…"

"Just turn around, and let me do you."

Matthew obediently handed Gilbert the tube of sunscreen and turned around. "You know, we might both be too pale for this to be a good idea." The summer sun beat down on the deserted beach, making the white sand so hot that the two nations had to stand on their towels while they lathered each other in sunscreen.

"But the beach is awesome!" the albino protested, strong hands massaging the cream into Matthew's bare back. "And it's not like nations can get skin cancer."

"Sunburns still hurt though," Matthew reminded him.

"Tomorrow we have to go to dinner with your brother and the angry Italian. We should at least get a day of fun in before to balance it out," Gilbert retorted.

"It's not going to be that bad," Matthew reprimanded gently. "Al will be nicer to you now that we're actually together. Don't worry."

Gilbert huffed. "I'm not worried." He ran his hands down Matthew's arms. "All done with your back."

"You got all of it?" Matthew asked, turning around to face the ex-nation.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You doubt me? I am the awesome Prussia, you know. I can put sunscreen on somebody. Especially when they've got a body I want to rub my hands all over anyways," he said, winking.

Matthew laughed and leaned up for a quick kiss. "Thanks."

"Now come on!" Gilbert said, grabbing Matthew's hand. "Let's hit the waves!"

They spent the next few hours enjoying the beach and each other's company. Finally, pleasantly tired from playing, Matthew convinced Gilbert to join him on the beach towels under the huge umbrella to relax for a while. Matthew curled up against Gilbert's side and scanned the deserted beach. Lined by cliffs on either side, it was the perfect, private alcove. Apparently also aware of their privacy, Gilbert moved his hand down to rest casually on Matthew's butt.

"How did you find this beach?" Matthew asked Gilbert, feeling lazy and content, but feeling a spark of arousal at the feeling of Gilbert's wandering hands.

"I used to come here all the time with Ludwig. We haven't been in a few years, but I'm glad it's still undiscovered. You know," he said, voice turning seductive, "since we're all alone…"

"Ve~, look, it's Gilbert! And that other guy!" called a cheerful voice startlingly close to them.

Matthew jolted and sat up. Approaching from the path that led to the beach was Italy, with Germany not far behind. Gilbert groaned quietly, eyes still closed. "Is that…?"

"Yep," Matthew replied softly as Italy skidded to a halt beside their towels.

"_Buongiorno!_" Italy greeted cheerfully. "I didn't know you would be here today! I'm surprised!"

"The feeling's mutual, Feli," Gilbert grumbled, finally sitting up to see the newcomers.

"Ludwig, did you know that Gilbert and what's-his-name were going to be here today?" Italy asked as Germany came up beside him. The blonde nation had already lathered himself in sunscreen, and additionally wore a blue cap over his bright blonde hair. His bathing suit was more conservative than the Italian's, which was between a pair of shorts and a Speedo.

"His name is Mattie," Gilbert growled.

"Matthew," the nation corrected quietly.

"Ve~, Mattie!" Italy said, nodding. "How are you, Mattie?"

Giving up, Matthew replied, "I'm great. How are you?"

"I'm great! Ludwig said we could have a nice day at the beach if I finished all my work yesterday, and I did! So now we're here! Luddy, did you know that Gilbert and his boyfriend were going to be here?"

Germany closed his eyes briefly, as though just looking at Gilbert gave him a headache. "_Nein_, Feliciano, I did not." When he opened his eyes again, it was to pin Gilbert with a glare.

"Trust me, 'Luddy,' I didn't plan this," Gilbert said, scowling.

"Ve~, Gilbert, let's go play in the waves! Ludwig never plays with me!"

"And you always complain that Gilbert plays too rough," Germany reminded the smaller man.

Beside Matthew, Gilbert scoffed, "Like Ludwig doesn't play rough."

"Only in bed!" Feliciano said cheerfully. "Now, come on, Gilbert!"

Gilbert raised his eyebrows in question to Matthew. "Go on," he told Gilbert quietly.

"All right," Gilbert said, climbing to his feet slowly before darting forward, throwing Italy over his shoulder, and racing towards the water.

Germany laid out his towel next to their umbrella and sat down, his movements rigid and his ears bright red. Matthew figured he was still embarrassed about the 'rough in bed' comment—at least, Matthew was embarrassed for him.

"You don't like to go in the water?" Matthew asked quietly after a few minutes of watching their boyfriends splash in the waves.

Germany glanced over at Matthew, looking surprised that he had spoken. "Ah, no, ocean water is highly unsanitary. Besides," he muttered, "it is undignified." They were silent for a few uncomfortable moments until Germany asked, "So, you are America's brother, correct?"

"Yeah, I'm Canada," Matthew said through gritted teeth, smiling tensely at the other nation. Germany ran most of the world meetings—shouldn't he have had a better idea of the nations represented there? "So, I heard he told you that he's dating Romano?"

"Yes. It was… surprising news. He's not easy to get along with."

Matthew gave Germany a side-long look, and then decided that if he was going to be rude about Matthew's brother, then Matthew had no obligation to feign niceness, even if he was Gilbert's brother. "Al's not a bad guy," he said tersely.

"It is not America who I was referring to," Germany said, blushing slightly. "Felici—Italy's brother tends to become… violent whenever I am around."

Immediately embarrassed over his misdirected curtness, Matthew said, "Oh, that would be… difficult. Does he… hurt you?" Matthew looked at the buff form of Gilbert's brother with surprise. From what he remembered of Romano, the half-nation was slender and petite, barely reaching Germany's shoulder, and was known more for his bluster than his bite.

"He… throws things. Like tomatoes," Germany said, blush deepening. "I cannot retaliate, of course. He is Italy's brother."

Matthew restrained his laughter with difficulty. "Then I'm sure you're glad that he's spending most of his time over at Alfred's place."

Germany nodded. "Italy and I are able to have our peace and quiet at his house now."

Gilbert had mentioned that he hadn't seen much of his younger brother lately. He had laughed it off as a good thing, but Matthew had gotten to know the albino enough to realize when he was upset. As uncomfortable as Matthew was with talking to people, especially such large, strong nations, Matthew couldn't stop himself from asking, "Have you been hanging out with Gilbert much, then?"

Germany shrugged. "When he's home, he doesn't come out of his basement much anyways, and even then it is just to pester me."

"I… I think he might miss you," Matthew said, looking at the sand under his fingers.

"I do not believe that Gilbert requires much of my attention," Germany said stiffly. "He has been self-sufficient since before I can remember."

Maybe Matthew should just shut up. It really wasn't his business. "Self-sufficient people get lonely, too," he pointed out softly. "Don't tell him I mentioned this, but… I think Gilbert thinks you're forgetting him."

Looking as awkward as Matthew felt, Germany said, "Of course I'm not forgetting Gilbert. He is… unforgettable."

Matthew decided that the old adage that 'opposites attract' must have had some merit. "Just make sure he knows that."

They settled into an uncomfortable silence, but a glance at Germany showed that he was thinking about what Matthew had said. Soon, Gilbert and Italy came bouncing back to where the other nations sat on the beach. Germany and Italy had arrived so late that the sun was now already low in the sky.

Gilbert stretched his arms high over his head, yawning, and then grinned at Matthew. "You ready to head home?" he asked.

Matthew nodded, so the couple packed their beach gear and headed back to the road. Since they couldn't fit the umbrella on the motorcycle, they had driven Matthew's sedan. Though it was nowhere near as sexy as Gilbert's motorcycle, Gilbert had snatched the keys from Matthew before he'd gotten a word in, so with the windows rolled down and the music blasting it managed the same fun feel as the motorcycle Matthew had grown to love.

By the time they made it back to Matthew's house, the sun had set, so Matthew immediately fed dinner to Kumajiro, who was again snuggled up with Gilbird. "I'm glad our pets get along so well," Matthew pointed out.

Gilbert shrugged. "Of course they do! I keep telling you, Birdie, awesome attracts awesome." He retrieved some birdseed from where he had stored it in Matthew's kitchen for Gilbird, and the small, yellow bird flew from Kuma's head to the countertop where Gilbert left a pile of seeds. "Speaking of awesome, sorry that my bro and his boy toy crashed on our awesome date."

"I still had a great day," Matthew reassured him, walking over and kissing Gilbert briefly. His skin tasted of sunscreen and brine, and Matthew was sure he didn't taste any better. "I'm going to go take a shower," he said, pulling back.

Gilbert caught his eyes with sudden intensity. "Mind if I join?"

Matthew felt his heart skip a beat before restarting at double-time. No matter how heavy their make-out sessions had gotten, there had always been clothes involved. Still, Matthew's excitement at the idea outweighed his nervousness. "Um, okay."

"Really?" Gilbert said with a sudden grin. "Race you there!"

Despite nearly wiping out on the sand and water on the kitchen tile, Matthew was right behind Gilbert in the race to the shower. They bolted up the stairs, flicking on the house lights as they went, until they reached the large shower in Matthew's bathroom. Gilbert turned on the spray to let it warm up before turning to Matthew, face slightly flushed.

There was a brief moment of suspense as their gazes met, and then they were on each other. Their tongues tangled, warm and wet, and their hands could not divest the other of their clothes fast enough. Matthew ran his hands over every inch of Gilbert's exposed skin, but stopped when Gilbert began sucking on his neck, making Matthew just tilt back his head and moan.

"Still tastes like ocean," Gilbert said, removing his mouth. Matthew groaned at the sudden loss of contact, but stopped when Gilbert began pushing Matthew back into the shower. "Not that I'm totally opposed to salty things, but I'd rather it didn't come from seawater."

Matthew blushed deeply, but allowed himself to be pushed under the shower's warm spray.

"Now let's get you clean," Gilbert said, joining him in the small stall.

"Let me," Matthew said softly, taking a washcloth and covering it in the gel body wash. Gently, Matthew rubbed the washcloth first over Gilbert's chest, lingering for a moment on his defined collarbones, feeling them under the wet cloth, before sliding down his arms. Gilbert stood perfectly still, watching Matthew with dilated eyes and slightly heavy breathing. He reached around to get Gilbert's back, pressed tightly against his warm, wet skin as he scrubbed his boyfriend's back. Next, he spent a bit of time on Gilbert's lean stomach, before gingerly swiping the cloth even lower, making Gilbert gasp softly.

"Birdie…" Gilbert groaned.

Blushing, Matthew moved on, rubbing the cloth quickly over Gilbert's legs. "Done," he said, eyes averted.

Gilbert snatched the cloth from Matthew's hands and grinned. "My turn." Matthew tensed slightly when Gilbert grasped his shoulders and firmly turned him around after soaping up his chest, but moaned happily when Gilbert began massaging his back through the washcloth, firm strokes relaxing his muscles even as Gilbert's warm presence behind him intensified a whole different sort of tension. When Gilbert moved his attention down to Matthew's backside, he felt himself flush. However, Gilbert did not linger forever, and eventually turned Matthew back around to face him.

His red eyes slid hungrily over his body, stopping at his arousal. He whistled softly, barely audible over the pounding shower water, and then said, "You weren't kidding when you said you were the second biggest country in the world."

Matthew blushed fiercely. "Gil—nnngh," he said, breaking off with a strangled moan as Gilbert reached out and gathered them both in his pale hand, setting an immediate rhythm. Matthew felt overwhelmed by the sudden rush of sensation, locking his arms around Gilbert's neck and then arching slightly backwards.

"Don't stop," he said between quick breaths.

The slick, wet heat was too much to take, and it wasn't long before his release came, leaving him panting Gilbert's name. Gilbert came at almost the exact same time, his free hand tight around Matthew's back. Knees weak, Matthew leaned into Gilbert's embrace, panting heavily. Slowly, he became aware again of the water falling on their heads, and realized it had lost some of its heat. Or maybe Matthew's body just felt so warm that the water couldn't compare. He giggled softly, rubbing his nose against Gilbert's neck. "What is it, Birdie?" Gilbert asked, taking advantage of the closeness to press a kiss to Matthew's forehead.

"I was just thinking that I'm glad we were already in the shower. That was… messy."

Gilbert laughed as well, and Matthew could feel the rumble in Gilbert's warm chest. "It's worth the mess," he assured the other nation. He gently put a finger under Matthew's chin and made him raise his head to meet his eyes. "Can I show you?"

"You mean…?" Matthew said.

Gilbert laughed softly. "I just jerked us off in the shower. You can say the word 'sex' now—we're at that point." Matthew rolled his eyes, but Gilbert's expression turned solemn. "Let me show you how much I love you."

Matthew's breath hitched, and then he nodded slowly.

Unlike their frantic race to the shower, Gilbert took the next step with surprising care and gentleness. He slowly dried Matthew off with a plush towel, staying unusually quiet. Matthew felt suddenly self-conscious, and moved a hand to cover himself, but Gilbert lifted the hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. "I want to see you. You're beautiful."

Matthew leaned forward and kissed Gilbert on the lips.

Once they were both dry, Gilbert led them out to Matthew's bedroom, and gently pushed Matthew back on the bed. The feel of his soft comforter under his back contrasted with Gilbert's warmth on top of him. In the silence of the bedroom, Matthew could hear Gilbert's breathing growing heavier as he pressed kisses on Matthew's face and neck. Where their chests touched, Matthew could feel Gilbert's racing heart. It didn't take long for Matthew to get aroused again. It was a slow, sensual build this time, rather than the racing event from earlier. As Gilbert's kisses moved down, trailing from Matthew's neck to his navel, Matthew suddenly reminded him, "I've never… done this before."

"I remember," Gilbert said. "I'll make it good for you… if you still want to."

He paused, and Matthew realized he was looking for an answer. "Yes, yes," he said quickly, making Gilbert chuckle.

They kissed languidly for several minutes, exploring each other's mouths and bodies. Matthew found that he enjoyed making Gilbert gasp, to see him so obviously affected by Matthew. He never felt more noticed, more _visible_, than right now, under Gilbert's loving gaze.

Once their kisses had turned more passionate and their sense of purpose increased, Gilbert asked quietly, "Lube?"

Too aroused to be embarrassed, Matthew gestured to his bedside table. Gilbert rummaged around for moment while Matthew laid back, pulse racing. He heard the sound of cardboard tearing, and a click as the tube opened. "For future reference, open the box before you get so turned on that your dexterity is shot," Gilbert said to Matthew, laughing softly.

Matthew laughed, a little relieved to see Gilbert slightly flustered. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. His laughter quieted when Gilbert settled between Matthew's legs, and he felt cool fingers prodding him where he'd never been touched before. It was a strange sensation, but Gilbert's continued kisses kept him in the moment. Soon, the sensation switched from odd to uncomfortable to exhilarating, as Gilbert's fingers suddenly brushed something within Matthew that made him see stars. "Right there!" he told Gilbert.

"I figured," the albino laughed softly, capturing his lips for a kiss as his fingers twisted again. Matthew gasped into his mouth.

"Ready?" Gilbert asked, fingers withdrawing.

Matthew nodded quickly, pulse racing with excitement and anticipation. Gilbert settled himself over Matthew, and then slowly entered him. Matthew's eyes widened at the sensation of being physically filled by another person. Matthew gasped, this time more in pain than pleasure, but Gilbert quickly distracted him with a deep kiss. "Relax," he said softly in Matthew's ear, panting softly.

He stayed still until Matthew had adjusted to the new sensation, hovering over Matthew. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern and love in his bright eyes.

Matthew nodded. "Yes, please, just _move._"

Gilbert obeyed immediately, twisting his hips in a way that made Matthew cry out in pleasure. The rhythm he set started slow, then increased until all Matthew could think of was the hot friction, building pressure, and the beautiful red eyes staring down at him.

"Oh, Gil, don't stop!" Matthew cried.

"I've got you," Gilbert assured him, pace increasing even further. "Let go."

At those words, the pleasure condensed and then exploded, radiating pleasure to every part of Matthew's body, making even his toes curl from the rush of sensation. Above him, he could just hear Gilbert saying his name before he was filled with the warmth from Gilbert's own completion.

Gilbert collapsed beside Matthew, looking as spent as Matthew felt. His warm arms encircled Matthew as they pressed together under the tangled sheets. Matthew reached up and brushed a light kiss over Gilbert's lips. "I love you, Gil," he said softly.

Gilbert's quiet "I love you too, Mattie," was the last thing Matthew heard before falling asleep.

_**Always wear your sunscreen, kids. Also, review. **_


	7. Chapter 7

Gilbert finished buttoning up his shirt, irritated that he hadn't kept anything nice enough for this family dinner at Mattie's so he wouldn't have had to come all the way back to Germany's house to get ready. Mattie's house provided all sorts of entertainment. He'd woken up that morning to another round of sex and a fresh breakfast. Maybe next time they could combine the two. Mmm, the things he could do with Mattie and maple syrup….

"_Bruder_?" Ludwig called from the basement stairs, knocking on the door. "Are you here?"

"You bet, West! Just grabbing some clothes for dinner at America's," Gilbert called back, snapping out of his delicious daydream.

Ludwig came down the stairs, surprisingly quiet without his normal boots. He was wearing a dark suit and a tie, hair slicked back even more harshly than usual. "I thought you were dating America's…"

"Brother. Canada. Matthew. And I am. I'm having a 'meet the boyfriend' dinner. Geez, Luddy, I thought you were smart," Gilbert sniped, ruffling his hair in the mirror. He had tried to tame it a bit, but after seeing Ludwig's helmet-like hair, he decided messy was sexier.

"Are things going well with… Canada? You seemed happy at the beach yesterday," Ludwif said, standing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs.

Gilbert looked at his white hair closely in the mirror. Maybe he should spike it? "Yeah, until two dudes crashed our party," Gilbert teased. No, spikes were not awesome. He was a sexy motherfucker without hair product.

"Yes, well…" Ludwig trailed off.

Gilbert turned to him as he buckled his belt over his slacks, raising his eyebrows. "What's up, West?" This was already turning into the longest conversation they'd had in a while that hadn't devolved into scolding, nagging, or shouting yet.

"I was thinking that a family dinner is a good idea," Ludwig said.

"Yeah, that's where I'm headed now. Keep up."

"I mean…a dinner with you, your Canada, and _your_ family. I would like to ensure that his intentions are proper—"

"West!" Gilbert laughed.

"And to welcome him into our family."

Gilbert's eyes widened. "I… It's not like we're engaged," he said.

"I know. But this is the most serious I've seen you about someone in a long time. Perhaps ever. If he's important to you, he should get to know your family and know that he's welcome," Ludwig said stiffly.

The warm feeling in Gilbert's chest was definitely _not _happiness about something so sentimental. He was just… still post-coital. It was like a delayed thing. "I think Mattie would love that," Gilbert admitted.

Ludwig gave a firm nod. "Excellent. Then I will consult with Roderich and Elizaveta and reference mine and Feliciano's schedules so we can propose a few potential evenings on which to have our dinner."

"Do we have to invite Mr. Prissy and his butch wife? You're not trying to scare Mattie off, are you?"

"You do not consider them family?"

"Well, yeah, but like annoying cousins who would try to embarrass me and warn Mattie to run away," Gilbert grumbled.

"I do not believe anyone who could date you could be easily scared off," Ludwig pointed out.

"You're right!" Gilbert realized. "Bring 'em on, then. Ah man, I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when they see my awesome boyfriend!" Briefly, the word 'foursome' floated through his mind, but he waved it off. Like he'd share Mattie with the piano player and the frying pan-wielder.

"And then we can schedule more casual dinners among Feliciano and I, and you and Canada," Ludwig said.

"Double dates? Only if you're prepared to be shown up in couple-y awesomeness by me and Birdie!" That would be totally cool! He could bring Mattie over here, and he'd be able to meet the dogs, and see his basement! He saw the time on his watch and swore. "I've got to go. Let me know about that dinner!"

Ludwig stopped Gilbert as he started up the stairs. "Are you not wearing a tie? This is the only first impression you have on America as his brother's new boyfriend."

"I'm not wearing a _tie_," Gilbert said, rolling his eyes.

"_Bruder_, you need to take this more seriously. Ties are an essential piece of clothing for formal occasions. It is a sign of respect and—"

Gilbert bounded up the stairs before Ludwig could stop him. "Good_bye_, West!" he called, before racing out of the house. He wouldn't put it past his younger brother to lasso him into a tie, and he didn't want to be late.

Unfortunately, they ended up five minutes late since Gilbert couldn't keep his hands to himself once he saw Mattie in his formalwear, and Mattie certainly hadn't complained.

America's house was monstrous, towering in the center of an enormous yard. Mattie knocked quietly. When that didn't get a response, Gilbert stepped forward and pounded heavily on the wood.

Mattie sent him a reproving look, but he shrugged. "Just speaking his language."

Indeed, the door swung open almost instantly. "'Sup, dudes?" America exclaimed, dressed in a three-piece suit that made him look like a secret agent.

"Hi, Al," Mattie greeted.

"Hey, man," Gilbert said, holding out his hand. Ludwig would be so proud.

America's grin fell immediately. "Don't 'hey, man' me. I haven't given you my 'if you hurt my bro, I will nuke your ass, have Japan help me resurrect you, and then I'll chop you into little pieces and feed you to Whale' speech."

"Whales don't eat people, Al," Mattie said, exasperated.

"Mine does," the other nation replied seriously. Gilbert felt decidedly queasy. America speared him with a glare. "Got it?"

"Yeah," Gilbert said, weakly.

"Awesome!" America said, expression brightening. "Then consider the speech given! Come on in, guys."

America's house was far larger than he could have possibly needed, everything at least double what a normal house contained. Tall walls covered with bright pop art lined the entrance hallway. A life-size replica of Han Solo encased in carbonite rested against the wall.

America led them into the dining room, a traditional and subtle—for the superpower—room next to the kitchen.

"Romano will be in with the food in a second," America told them, making them sit down.

"You made Romano cook?" Mattie scolded.

"Hey, he wouldn't let me near the food," America laughed. "He only eats stuff that either he or his bro have cooked. I nearly got brained for offering to order in pizza."

"That's because American pizza is cardboard topped with pre-made sauce," the Italian snapped, entering the room with a long plate of caprese salad and a deep dish of pasta in marinara. "Now help me out, bastard."

America leapt forward and easily picked up the large bowl. "Smells great, babe."

Romano blushed ferociously. "W—well, of course if does, hamburger bastard."

America set the bowl in the center of the table. "Okay, Mattie? This is Lo—Romano. Romano, this is my bro, Mattie. And Prussia."

"Gilbert," the albino corrected. "And we've met."

"Well, not as the boyfriends of a pair of awesome bros!" America exclaimed.

"I'm very happy for you and Alfred," Mattie said politely.

"Yeah, yeah," Romano grumbled, sitting down. "Eat up, bastards. I didn't go to all this trouble so the food would go cold."

Gilbert piled up his plate as the others did the same. Shoveling a forkful into his mouth, America exclaimed, "Delicious!" through his mouthful.

"This is really great, Romano," Mattie said.

"What are you surprised that I can cook?" the smaller nation challenged. "South Italy's known for pizza, not pasta?"

"No, that's not…" Mattie protested.

Irritated by Romano's shitty attitude, Gilbert spoke up. "Feli's is better."

America had to hold the back of Romano's jacket to prevent him from launching himself over the table at the albino nation. "No homicide at the table, Lovi." The angry Italian muttered something inaudible to Gilbert since the small nation was practically strangling himself. "No maiming, either. We talked about this."

Mattie nudged Gilbert. He rolled his eyes, but said, "Sorry, 'Mano. Just kidding."

Alfred managed to get Romano seated once more, but the tension at the table didn't ease in the slightest. Gilbert was getting angrier and angrier as Romano's barbed comments made Mattie fall quiet and slump in his chair.

"So, Mattie, what do you think about this new thing with Iggy?" America asked, apparently oblivious to the atmosphere at the table.

"What new thing?" Mattie asked.

"Iggy and Spain," America explained.

"What are they doing?"

"Well, I don't exactly try to think about what happens between Artie and his boyfriend behind closed doors," Alfred said, laughing.

"Wait, Toni's dating _England?_" Gilbert exclaimed. "Since when?"

"A few months now, I think," America said. "I was hanging over at Iggy's house and Spain was there too. He's the one who recommended Romano as a sports car-expert for me. They're really funny together. Sometimes it's all love, tea, and tomatoes, and sometimes it's 1588 all over again."

"I can't believe he didn't tell me," Gilbert said, frowning.

"Arthur's a private person. He probably asked him to keep it quiet," Mattie pointed out.

Gilbert looked between America and Romano contemplatively. "It's like your dads are dating. That makes you guys bros. Bro-cest, much?"

"Shut the fuck up," Romano snapped.

"Hungary will have a ball with this," Gilbert mused.

"Mattie," America said loudly, changing the subject, "what's happening in Canada? Any big snowstorms lately?"

"It's the middle of summer," Mattie pointed out.

America shrugged. "Yeah, but you're Canada. Isn't it always white up there? Anyways, anything cool happening? Haha, I mean except the snow."

"Nothing much, eh? Just some recent—"

"Who cares?" Romano grumbled.

Mattie felt silent, staring at his plate.

Gilbert practically saw red. "What the fuck is your problem?" he demanded, glaring across the table at Romano.

"You!" Romano exploded, jumping to his feet. "You're my fucking problem! It's bad enough I have to hear about you from Feli when he's talking about his stupid German boyfriend, but now you're here too?"

"Too awesome for you to handle?" Gilbert sneered. "Seriously, what'd I ever do to you?"

"What's going on?" American demanded.

"Do you really want to start this here?" Romano challenged Gilbert.

"_You_ started it!" Gilbert returned. He knew that Feli's little brother was crazy, but he hadn't realized it was this extreme. "Just what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm _talking _about how you slept with me and then disappeared before I even woke up! Let me guess, Canada, did he get you drunk before he fucked you, too?"

There was silence at the table except Gilbert's fork falling to clatter on his plate. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"When you seduced me in a bar during the world meeting!"

"How drunk was I?" Gilbert mused out-loud. He had woken up in strangers' beds more times than he could count, but he must have been out of his mind to put his dick in someone this crazy.

"I didn't exactly breathalyze you," Romano snarled.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Okay, so maybe we fucked. What's the problem?"

"You took my virginity and then hit the road!"

"Seriously?" Gilbert couldn't decide whether to be shocked or just impressed with himself. He could seduce crazy virgins even when he was drunk out of his mind. Francis was going to be jealous as hell.

Tears welled in the Italian nation's eyes, and Romano bolted from the room before any of them, even America, could react.

Prussia had picked up Romano at some bar for a one-night stand at some point, and he was still this pissed off about it? What was the big… His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an image of Matthew. He imagined what it would have been like if that had been how his and Mattie's first time had been, if _Mattie_ had been the one to wake up to an empty bed. Romano may have been completely neurotic, but maybe that only made it worse. He wasn't used to feeling guilty about his sexual conquests, but unless Romano had poisoned his pasta—a suddenly very real possibility—then that was what he was feeling.

"Get out," America snapped at Gilbert.

Instead of listening, Gilbert turned to Mattie. "I don't remember any of that, I swear," he said fervently.

"And that makes it better?" Mattie looked pale, and he was avoiding Gilbert's eyes.

Feeling his stomach drop completely, Gilbert said, "Mattie, I swear—"

"I said, get out!" America shouted. He came around the table and jerked Gilbert harshly to his feet.

Gilbert tried to break loose, to reach out and comfort Mattie. "Mattie, listen to me—"

Not even fazed by Gilbert's struggles, America hauled Gilbert out of the room. Matthew didn't follow. America tossed Gilbert out the front door, and he rolled across the grass, getting dirt all over his nicest suit. "If I see your face again…" America said, glaring at Gilbert. "_Whale." _Then he slammed the door, and Gilbert was alone.

OOO

Matthew stayed sitting in the dining room as Alfred threw his boyfriend out of the house, and then went upstairs to talk to Romano. The very sight of the pasta in front of him made him feel sick to his stomach, so he rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands, eyes closed.

When had Gilbert slept with Romano? It had to have been before they'd started dating… Right? He thought back to the night before, when they had finally made love, but all he could see was Gilbert's pale hands on Romano's body, saying that he loved him.

God, was Matthew really any different than anyone else Gilbert had slept with?

Alfred shuffled back into the room, frowning. "Romano won't open the door. He doesn't want to talk to me." He tapped Matthew once on the head, making him jump. "C'mon, bro," he said, before continuing into the kitchen.

"Huh?" Matthew said, but followed.

Alfred snatched a bottle of red wine off the counter and quickly popped the cork. "We were going to save this for later, but…" He grabbed two giant plastic cups, one with a Patriots logo and the other with a Captain America design.

"You want to drink wine out of those?" Matthew asked softly, sitting down at the kitchen counter.

"What, you think I keep wine glasses at my house? Romano brought some, but…"

"Pour away," Matthew said.

By the end of the second bottle, Alfred was blabbering. "Why didn't he tell me? Why won't he talk to me? I think he's mad at me. I didn't do anything, Mattie, I swear I didn't. God, he's so annoying sometimes!"

"Yeah," Matthew said glumly, taking another sip. They had moved into Alfred's television room and were sitting on his big leather sofa.

"I tell him everything! Well, not like state secrets, but everything important to me. I even told him about that one time when I was little and I cried because I thought my pet bunny ran away, but it turned out I had just accidentally left it in my room. But he didn't tell me that he'd slept with Prussia?"

"I slept with him," Matthew told Alfred softly. "I thought it was special. Except, I don't think it was. I don't think he's changed at all. Did you hear him? He didn't even feel bad about sleeping with Romano and breaking his heart."

"I told him weeks ago that you were bringing that dick along, and he didn't tell me that he was upset about it? What kind of boyfriend is he? What kind of boyfriend am _I?_"

"He is kind of a dick, isn't he?" Matthew mused, swirling the red liquid in the cup.

"Romano's just sitting up there upset and I'm drinking down here. That's it, I'm going to go break down his door. I'm going to be his hero whether he wants me to or not!" Alfred exclaimed before bounding away, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Bye," Matthew said, realizing that Alfred hadn't listened to a word he'd said. He sighed. No one ever noticed him. And without Gilbert, no one ever would.

He curled up on the couch and tried to fall asleep. Despite the copious amounts of wine, sleep was a long time in coming.

_**Angst! Review please! It motivates me to update more quickly. **_


	8. Chapter 8

_**And now, I present the final chapter.**_

_OOO_

The next morning, Alfred and Romano had apparently made up, if the kisses they exchanged when they thought Matthew wasn't looking—or sometimes when he was—were anything to go by. Matthew had woken up around eleven with a mild hangover. He was lucky he was a nation, or it would likely have been unbearable. However, it was coupled with a good, old-fashioned headache from having to watch his brother's romantic happiness throughout breakfast.

Despite his headache and heartbreak, Alfred had tried to rope the northern nation into making pancakes for all of them. He had just given Alfred a blank stare, so the American had stuck some Eggos in the toaster. Romano had expressed his disgust, but had refused to cook, instead snacking on the leftover caprese salad from last night's disastrous dinner.

Finally, when he caught Alfred stealing a kiss from Romano out of the corner of his eye for the tenth time, he stood up. "I should go," he said, straightening the wrinkled button-down he was still wearing from the night before.

"Are you sure?" Alfred asked, looking at him with a flash of concern in his eyes. "You don't have to go. The Eggos aren't even ready yet!"

"Yeah. Thanks for letting me crash here."

Alfred let him go, but made him borrow one of his many cars rather than letting him call a cab, since Gilbert had taken the motorcycle they had driven there together on. It was an obnoxiously large Jeep with tires so tall that Matthew had to jump into his seat, but even the engine's loud roar couldn't drown out his own thoughts.

Having Alfred and Romano flaunt their happiness in front of him had been tough, but at least it had provided some sort of distraction.

He wondered where Gilbert was, what he was thinking. Was he even upset over their fight? Or was he already moving on to his next target, now that he'd slept with Matthew?

The morning before, Matthew had woken up to find Gilbert beside him in bed, propped up on one elbow and watching him. There had been love in those red eyes, Matthew was sure. Or had been sure. Now he just wondered who else had gotten the same treatment. Did 'I love you' _mean _something to Gil, or had it been a way to get Matthew to open up to him?

He hated Gilbert for making him doubt that what they had was real, and hated himself for caring so much.

What if Gilbert _did _really love him? Would he still after Matthew's brother had bodily tossed him out of his house, and Matthew hadn't done a thing to stop it?

The worst part of what that Matthew didn't know who to blame, couldn't know until he knew for sure what Gilbert had been truly feeling through all this. He had spent months with Matthew, if only a part of that officially dating, whereas he had picked Romano up during the course of one night. Did that mean Matthew was special, or that Gilbert was willing to wait as long as necessary to get what he wanted?

After accidentally missing several turns, Matthew pulled into his driveway. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had to double-take, turning around to see the familiar motorcycle that was parked at the bottom of his driveway.

"Maple," Matthew said quietly, wondering if it's too late to put the Jeep in reverse and hightail it back to Alfred's house.

He got out of the car and walks up his driveway, feeling like he was walking to the gallows. Why was Gilbert here?

When he got to the front porch, he stopped dead in his tracks. Gilbert was propped up against the front door, head lolling to the side as he snored softly. His white hair was even more ruffled than usual, and his dress clothes were hopelessly wrinkled. He looked adorable.

Though he could go around to the back door, he just cleared his throat. "Hey, Gilbert."

Gilbert jumped and scrambled to his feet. "Birdie," he said, words slurring slightly as his eyes struggled to focus on Matthew.

Matthew crossed his arms, trying to strike a more confident pose than he was feeling. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Mattie, you have to hear me out," Gilbert insisted, coming closer and putting his hands on Matthew's shoulders. "Okay?"

Matthew's brain stuttered. "Er…"

"I know that the stuff Romano said last night sounded pretty bad. Okay, maybe really bad. And _maybe _I didn't handle it with my normal grace." Matthew snorted, but Gilbert kept going, "But it wasn't what it sounded like! That happened like two years ago."

"You finally remembered?" Matthew asked.

Gilbert nodded. "Once I thought about it. I hadn't realized it was such a big deal, or I would have… Maybe. I dunno. Listen, Mattie, what I'm trying to say is that whether or not I used to be a jerk doesn't matter. Well, by your expression I can tell maybe it does matter, but you knew that that's who I was. I thought you knew that that's not who I am anymore, though." Gilbert took a deep breath. "You're important to me. You're the best thing that's happened to me since I lost my country. Maybe the best thing ever, because the person I am around you is the person I want to be. I like making you happy. I'm really trying to be a good boyfriend here. I thought you knew that."

Matthew looked up at him with wide eyes. "Um…"

"I love you, Mattie. This relationship is real for me, and I hope it's real for you. This is like nothing I've ever done before. You can be upset with me for being a jerk to Romano last night, and I'm really sorry about that, but you have to know that all that stuff that happened before we got together, all the sleeping around and conquering people, that's not me anymore. I'm, well, I'm _committed _to this relationship. Trust me, that's not something I say to….anyone. I'm Prussia, king of commitment issues, but I'm willing to change for you. I want to change for you, to be the kind of guy who deserves you."

Matthew blinked up at him, trying to organize his thoughts.

"Seriously, Mattie, you've got to believe me. Do I need to beg? I can get down on my knees. I can sell my motorcycle. I can…"

Matthew leaned forward and pressed his lips against Gilbert's, unable to think of anything to say. Gilbert hesitated for a moment, and then wrapped a warm arm around Matthew's waist. He pressed against the seam of Matthew's lips, and then pressed his tongue inside, gently reclaiming Matthew's mouth. The action was tender, and Matthew felt loved wrapped there in Gilbert's arms.

They parted, but remained close enough for Matthew to feel Gilbert's breath. He looked into his red eyes and smiled gently. "Pancakes?" he suggested.

"_Mein Gott_, yes," Gilbert said, attacking his mouth once more. It was a while more until they finally went into the house.

OOO

The next world meeting was two months later, and Gilbert and Mattie were still going strong. Even after a disastrous giant family dinner, which had included an irate but not antagonistic Romano, a crass America, a drooling Elizaveta, a snobbish Roderich, a tipsy Feliciano, and a mortified Ludwig, Mattie had stuck with Gilbert, and the albino couldn't have been happier.

They entered the world meeting together, Gilbert's arm wrapped firmly around Mattie's waist. Francis and Antonio spotted him almost immediately, disentangling themselves from their respective lovers and coming over. Gilbert nudged Mattie towards the table, making him promise to save him a seat, before the other two-thirds of the trio could grab him.

"Gil, it's been forever!" Antonio said, grabbing him in a hug.

"Only like a week," Gilbert argued, but returned the hug.

Francis looked at Mattie, then back at Gilbert. "You're awfully clingy, _mon ami_," he pointed out.

"That is my boyfriend," Gilbert snapped.

Antonio laughed. "It's okay, Gil! We think it's adorable how whipped you are!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Gilbert growled good-naturedly. He saw Mattie looking over at him with concern, and gave him a reassuring smile. He turned back to find his two friends giving him matching grins. "Like you two aren't whipped, too!"

Antonio blew a kiss over to England, who blushed, even though he appeared to be locked in an argument with America, so the ex-empire apparently had an eye on his airheaded boyfriend. "Of course I am!" Antonio agreed.

Francis just laughed. "I am France, the nation of love. I don't get _whipped._" Gilbert didn't know how Francis had done it, but Francis had been sleeping with Switzerland for at least a month by then. Gilbert had been sure it was a one-time thing, but apparently it had been happening at least once a week since then.

Though he was too far away to have heard the conversation, Switzerland turned to where the trio was standing and beckoned once to Francis before turning back to his conversation with Greece.

"_Adieu!" _Francis said, bounding away towards Switzerland.

Gilbert and Antonio exchanged glances, and then broke down into laughter.

Antonio slapped Gilbert's shoulder. "So you and Canada are still going strong?"

Gilbert nodded. "Well, yeah. It's serious."

"Like, serious serious?" Antonio asked, eyebrows raised.

"Actually, I was going to tell you—"

Ludwig was standing at the head of the table, glaring at the room as he shouted, "The meeting is starting! Go to your seats!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and shook his head at Antonio. "I'll catch you later," he said, and went to his seat next to Mattie, leaning over and snatching a quick kiss. Mattie blushed, but gave him a sweet smile.

As the nations settled, Ludwig looked around suspiciously. "Where did America go? He is supposed to start this meeting."

Suddenly, the double-door entrance of the meeting room burst open to reveal the nation they had been discussing. He was carrying enough red heart balloons to make Gilbert surprised that he wasn't literally lifted off the ground. "Yo, dudes, listen up!" America said, strolling into the room. It took Gilbert a few seconds of staring at the balloons and the ecstatic, yet nervous, expression on the nation's face until his eyes widened and he whipped his head around to look at Romano, who was slinking down in his chair, face bright red.

No freaking way…

"The past few months have been the happiest of my life. It's even better than those crazy Roaring 20s and I'm pretty sure it's better than the 70s, though I don't really remember much of that decade. Romano is the sweetest, funniest, most interesting person or country I've ever met," America announced. Gilbert shot another look back at Romano, just to make sure that America was _actually _talking about the same Romano Gilbert knew. Yep, the tomato-colored blush and death-glare were still in place.

"America, this is not the time for—" Germany began, but America ignored him.

"Now, Romano's a pretty private guy. Hell, some of you all might not even know we're dating! But I wanted to have an audience for what I'm about to do. Not just because I'm a narcissistic git," he added, sending a brief glare at England, "but because I want to show how serious I am."

Beside him, Mattie gave a tiny gasp. A glance at his wide eyes and open mouth told Gilbert that the other nation hadn't been informed of the stunt America was about to pull, which Gilbert thought was totally unfair. Seriously, bros before… other bros.

"Romano," America said, approaching Romano's seat at the table with a large, sheepish grin, "You're the best thing that's happened to me. Will you give me the chance to try to make you happy for as long as we both are around?" He knelt dramatically, nearly hitting Feli, who was sitting next to Romano, with the giant horde of balloons. "Will you marry me?"

The nations at the world meeting held their breaths, looking between the hopeful, excited look on America's face, to Romano's red cheeks and teary eyes. Since Romano's expressions for love and fury were about the same, Gilbert wasn't sure if America was about to get accepted or head-butted in the nose.

Romano muttered something softly.

"Huh?" America asked, still holding his pose and smile.

"Yes, I'll marry you, you damn bastard!" Romano shouted.

The smile on America's face became positively beaming, and the nations applauded obligatorily. Gilbert could hear England and Feli both sobbing loudly, and France was saying something along the lines of being sad that those two were being taken off the market before being silenced by Switzerland.

Romano launched himself forward into America's arms, making him release the collection of balloons, which drifted to the high ceiling as Romano locked lips with the blonde nation.

Beside him, Mattie looked teary-eyed and delighted, clapping along with the rest.

Gilbert put his hand in his pocket dejectedly, tapping the small, velvet box sitting there. Fuck. How on earth was he supposed to compete with _that_?

OOO

Gilbert had been in a weird mood ever since Alfred had proposed to Romano that morning. He had been quiet throughout the whole meeting. Even their usual sex before bed had been quieter, more intense than usual. Not that Matthew had been complaining, but now, lying together in bed, Matthew couldn't help but feel a little worried.

The worst part was, he was pretty sure he knew what was wrong.

"Hey, um, Gil?" Matthew asked softly, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at his boyfriend. Gilbert's hair was messy, since Matthew loved running his hands through it, and his pale chest looked warm and inviting, but Matthew held off on more cuddling, wanting to speak his piece.

Cracking open one eye, Gilbert looked up at him. He smirked softly. "Hey, Birdie."

"Oh, were you asleep already? Okay, never mind, just go back to sleep," Matthew said, quickly plopping back down on the bed.

Gilbert chuckled and rolled onto his side, snaking an arm across Matthew's chest and looking down at him. "I'm up. Well, I'm awake. If you want me to be _up_, I'm sure we can work something out, if you give me a little recovery time and a little incentive."

Matthew chuckled at that, and shook his head. "I just…" He couldn't meet Gilbert's eyes, and the words he had planned earlier had vanished from his mind.

"What's up?" Gilbert asked, idly tracing a pattern across Matthew's side.

Taking a deep breath, Matthew said, "I just wanted to say that you shouldn't… Don't pay attention to what Al and Romano do. We're a different relationship. We can take things at whatever speed you want. And I promise I'm not saying that as a secret hint or something stupid like that, I _actually mean _that we need to go at our own pace."

"Huh?" Gilbert asked, blinking.

"I just… Don't let the fact that Al… you know, to Romano throw you off. Al's always been a fast and furious kind of guy. And I…" Matthew finally met Gilbert's eyes. "I need you to know that there's no pressure. I love you, and I'll love you in any way you want me to. We don't need to get married."

At the flash of hurt in Gilbert's eyes, Matthew quickly amended, "Not that I wouldn't marry you! God, I'd love to be your h-husband. Wow, that would be…amazing." Then, he shook his head. "But what I'm saying is we don't need to rush. You don't have to compete with Alfred. I already know I have the best relationship in the world."

When Gilbert still didn't answer, Matthew quickly launched up and kissed Gilbert quickly. At first it was uncomfortable, since he managed to jam their noses together for a second before their lips touched briefly, but as he let his head fall back on the pillow, embarrassed, Gilbert followed him, brushing their lips together before easily slipping his tongue into Matthew's mouth, gently coaxing and twisting.

Matthew moaned softly into the sensual kiss, archly slightly off the bed as Gilbert moved on top of him, his warm weight covering Matthew, making him feel loved and protected.

Gilbert kissed from Matthew's mouth to his ear, then bit the lobe gently. "Marry me," he said softly, grinding his hips slowly against Matthew.

In the rush of sensation, it took Matthew a minute to process his words. "Eh?"

Gilbert's weight was suddenly gone, back over to his side of the bed. Gilbert was sitting up, looking frantic. "Fuck," he said. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Oh," Matthew said.

"No, no, no, don't give me that look. I mean, I want to marry you. I do! Wait, I'm not supposed to say that part yet either. I just wanted it to be perfect. There was going to be a motorcycle ride and a sunset and roses and some champagne and…" Gilbert suddenly scrambled off the bed. Matthew heard him rustling around, and then he was back. In the moonlit room, Matthew could only make out the outline of the small black box in Gilbert's hand.

"I think I already screwed this up, but at least let me give my speech. I love you, Mattie. Everything about you just makes me so much more in love with you. I love your eyes, your pancakes, the way you seemed so shy but were comfortable scolding me when I left dirty plates out from the day we met. I love how you don't even realize how amazing you are, but I want to spend every day of my life—however long that is—trying to make you see yourself as I see you. I love how hockey makes you turn into a Canadian rage beast, but how you apologize and patch me up when you kick my ass on the ice, like I didn't love the fight. You make me feel so calm, but so much more alive than ever before.

"Back in the day, I lived for the battle. For the rush of blood and the fight. But I was constantly trying to prove myself. I was never comfortable, or secure, or relaxed. Now, I get the same blood rush just feeling your arms around me, but I feel…content. Happy. There have been times when I've wondered why I didn't just die with Prussia, why I got stuck in a world that is moving on without me." He brushed a curly lock of hair from Matthew's face. "But now I know. I was always meant to find you, to love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life." He opened up the box, and Matthew could make out the faint gleam of the gold ring in the darkness. Almost breathless, Gilbert added, "Also, I swear I bought this and was planning this long before your brother proposed to his boyfriend, so I'm not just copying. I promise. Seriously, I—"

Matthew sat up and kissed Gilbert quickly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and feeling his heart soar. After a second of shock, Gilbert dove into the kiss, making Matthew even more breathless than before.

When they finally parted, Gilbert gave an uncertain laugh. "Was that a yes?"

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes," Matthew said.

He could practically feel the tension leave Gilbert's body. "Great! That's great." Gilbert grabbed Matthew's hand and slid on the ring, then tossed the box onto the bedside table.

Matthew kissed him again, and then huffed. "Now I see why you were annoyed earlier. Al sure knows how to steal the spotlight, eh? Not that I would ever have a huge wedding, but you might want one. Do we have to wait until Al marries Romano? Maple, that could take forever! He's going to want to plan a huge thing and…" Matthew laughed softly, looking at Gilbert. "You know what? I don't care at all. I'm marrying the love of my life. I don't care if it's this minute or three years from now. You're going to be my husband." The words made Matthew feel giddy, like his heart was going to just float right out of his chest. "The wedding isn't the important part. It's just the start."

"I'm glad you think so," Gilbert said, pulling Matthew onto his lap. He looked up into Matthew's eyes, his usual smirk softer than Matthew had ever seen it. "Because I was thinking… Instead of waiting for your brother to hog all the attention, and for _my _brother to get involved and completely take over planning our wedding… How do you feel about eloping?"

Matthew let his enthusiastic kiss give the answer for him.

_**The End.**_


End file.
